His Pride, Her Judgment
by gladysnotw
Summary: Claire Lestrade was ready to see her father after studying far from home for a few years. However, things take a strange turn when she meets the cold and stern Mycroft Holmes. With Moriarty back, more and more dangers and relationship build up.
1. Chapter 1

John opened the door when he heard the rapid knocking. Mrs. Hudson was out buying groceries and Sherlock wasn't going to get up from his "busy schedule" to open it. John hurried down the stairs and opened it, revealing a young woman, about 23 years old.

Her hair was a chocolate brown color and she had pale skin. Her dark eyes looked into his and she gave a small bow of her head. "Is this the residence of Greg Lestrade?"

John grimaced. "Lestrade? Uh, no, this is the residence of-"

"You sure? He told me to come here. This _is_ 221B Baker Street, is it not?"

"Yes, it is, but he doesn't live here."

She pondered for a moment and gave a small shrug. "I'll just wait inside, I suppose."

John moved aside as she stepped in and he suddenly realized what he had done. "Whoa, whoa! Wait, who exactly are you?"

Her curls bounced as she looked around. "I was just about to ask you the same question...mister?"

"John. What business do you have with-"

There was knocking at the door again and this time, the girl hurried over to open it. John tried to follow her as she opened it and squealed. She hurried outside and John felt total confusion as he saw Lestrade hugging her tightly. John didn't even notice Sherlock as he came downstairs to see what all the noise was about. He wore his dark blue robe and gave a small yawn.

"Can't even get some shut eye on a Sunday afternoon."

Lestrade pulled away from the hug as John stood there, awaiting some sort of explanation. Sherlock stood beside John, smiling at his confusion.

"Lovely to meet your daughter, Gavin," Sherlock said, finally.

Lestrade and John frowned and said. "Greg."

John blinked. "Daughter? How did you know-"

Sherlock scanned the girl from head to toe. Simple. She's obviously not a girlfriend or wife. Too young. She has the same eye shape and color. No siblings, so she can't be a niece. Besides, an embracing hug like that can only be between a father and daughter, John. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you're a real doctor. The evidence is overwhelmingly obvious."

John rolled his eyes. "To some like you, perhaps."

Lestrade gave a small smile. "This is my daughter, Claire. Claire, this is John Watson and Sherlock Holmes."

Claire smiled and gave each of them a nod. "It's a pleasure to meet the faces behind the stories. My father has told me much of you two."

John managed to give her a smile as she and Lestrade came back inside and they all headed upstairs. Claire didn't look at all like Lestrade, except for the eyes. So, John figured she must've gotten most of her mother's looks. They all sat down, except for Sherlock. He went into the small kitchen and tried to find a decent thing to eat for breakfast.

"So, Claire, are you in school?" John asked.

"I am. I rarely got to see my father while I've been away, but I managed to get a plane here and I plan to spend my Christmas vacation here. It'll be great."

"What are you studying?"

"Literature. Always fascinated me, you know. The stories."

The conversation was put to halt when they heard a creak from the stairs. They all turned and saw Mycroft Holmes, standing in the doorway. Sherlock rolled his eyes and pretended to be distracted by something in the fridge. John gave a fake side-smile and Lestrade looked away. Claire, however, stared at the man as he stood with a stern look on his face, He wore a suit and his hair was neatly combed.

"Sherlock, get over here. You'll have to face me sooner or later. I have news for you that is more interesting and urgent than your refrigerator," Mycroft said.

Sherlock closed the fridge and mumbled. "I doubt it."

John stood up and politely held out his hand to Mycroft. "Mycroft. Good afternoon."

Mycroft ignored his hand. "Afternoon, Doctor Watson."

Claire smiled a bit at that but looked away when John sat back down, rolling his eyes. Sherlock plopped onto the couch and deeply exhaled. "What news, brother dear? Have you actually managed to lose some weight?"

Mycroft frowned. "I'd prefer if we spoke about it alone."

Sherlock shrugged. "My flat, my guests, my rules. Start talking or leave."

John and Lestrade exchanged amused looks and Mycroft rolled his eyes. Claire noticed the umbrella in his hands and how he held onto it. Sherlock played with the sash form his robe and hummed to himself.

"We were going to leave soon, anyway," Lestrade said as he stood up.

Claire followed his lead and stood up as well. John gave them a nod and smiled at Claire. "Nice to meet you, Claire."

Mycroft moved aside as Lestrade headed towards the doorway. Claire smiled at John and glanced at Sherlock. "Afternoon, Mr. Holmes. Doctor Watson."

"Who's this?" Mycroft asked as he stared at Claire.

She paused at the doorway and turned to look at him. John stood up and cleared his throat. "This is Claire."

Lestrade spoke up. "She's my daughter. Claire, this is Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's brother."

Claire gave a small shrug. "Father's never mentioned you before. I didn't know you had a brother, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock shrugged. "No one usually does. I'm the more interesting one."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and Claire laughed. John chuckled and Sherlock smiled. Mycroft took a seat in front of Sherlock and gave John a look to make him stop smiling. "If you're all done watching my brother's comedic act, it just ended. Now, go on."

Lestrade put a hand on Claire's shoulder and they left the room with Mycroft staring at her. John followed behind them, grabbing his coat. They left the building and John exhaled. "Have you had lunch yet? I'm feeling a bit peckish."

"We haven't. Care to join since the flat will be occupied for a few hours?" Lestrade asked, zipping his jacket.

"Or days," John replied.

They all headed down the road to a small cafe. Claire looked at John and couldn't help but feel curious about the Holmes brothers. "So, Mycroft is older than Sherlock?"

John nodded. "And, he never lets him forget it."

She giggled. "Bit bossy, isn't he? What kind of work does he do? Business? Marketing?"

Lestrade scoffed. "Try working for the British government!"

Claire's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? And...he just walks around in public? Shouldn't he have...bodyguards?"

John shrugged. "He's not the queen of England, Claire."

"Or is he?" Lestrade joked.

They all laughed as they drew near to the cafe. Claire remembered Mycroft's stern face and found it rather humorous. When they had finished eating, they returned to the flat. Mycroft and Sherlock were still talking. Well, _Mycroft_ was talking. Sherlock was playing his violin and staring out his window. John hung up his coat and Lestrade sat down.

"You need to help me with this case, Sherlock. It involves more people than you know," Mycroft insisted.

Sherlock played a long chord as he ignored his brother. John picked up a book and started reading. He was used to this sort of thing.

"What sort of case?" Claire asked.

Mycroft looked at her, frowning. "It's classified information. None of your business."

She shrugged and stared at the desk by the window. Lestrade fell asleep in his chair and Sherlock plucked a string on his violin. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"I'll look into it," Sherlock said, finally.

John looked up from behind his book with raised eyebrows. Mycroft felt a sense of relief. He sat down and spotted Claire, reading a book on dust printing. Her curls caught his eyes first. Brown and long.

"Don't you two have plans for the night?" Mycroft asked.

Claire shrugged. "That's classified."

John smiled from behind his books and cleared his throat to cover it. Mycroft couldn't help but smirk at that reply. However, it quickly returned to a frown.

"Are you merely here on visit?"

"I don't see how it concerns you, sir, to be quite frank."

Mycroft grimaced and shifted in the chair. "I'm sorry. Did I kill your family in another life? Where is this attitude coming from?"

Claire closed her book and put it down on the desk. "I was wondering the same thing about you only a few minutes ago."

Mrs. Hudson entered when she heard a female voice and clapped her hands when she saw Claire. "Oh! Lovely, Mycroft!"

Mycroft grimaced. "What?"

Mrs. Hudson walked up to Claire and held both of her hands. "What's her name?"

Claire wasn't sure what was going on. "I'm Claire. And, you are?"

"Oh, what a lovely name. Mycroft, I never knew you had it in you to find such a beautiful young lady."

John held back a laugh and Sherlock smirked as Mycroft blushed. Claire spoke quickly and calmly, smiling at the old woman. "I'm Greg Lestrade's daughter. You must be Mrs. Hudson. He's told me a bit about you, ma'am. A pleasure."

"Ah! The pleasure is all mine, dear. Hope to see you around. Mycroft visits a few times a month."

Claire shut her eyes but remained polite. "Mycroft and I are not a couple, ma'am."

Mrs. Hudson's smile slowly faded. "Oh, well, that's a shame. Maybe one day, he'll come around. I know it!"

Mycroft was about to reply, but he held it back. Rolling his eyes, he stood up and looked at Sherlock once again. "I'll call again soon, brother."

Sherlock played his violin softly and Mycroft shook his head. He glanced down at John and gave him a bow of his head. "John."

John looked up at him. "Mycroft."

Mycroft glanced at Lestrade, who was still asleep. "Detective Inspector."

Claire raised an eyebrow as Mycroft turned to her. "Karen."

"Claire," she and John said in unison.

Mycroft didn't even apologize as he left the room. Claire gently shook Lestrade awake and he woke up with a jump.

"We should head home, Dad. Come on."

He slowly got up and stretched his arms. "So sorry, John."

John shook his head and closed his book. Sherlock stopped playing and put his violin away. John walked Claire and Lestrade to the door, shaking their hands. They opened the door and cold breeze came inside. John waved them off and they left for home into the cold night.


	2. Chapter 2

Greg Lestrade's apartment wasn't too big, but Claire didn't mind. She slept in the living room sofa and woke up the next day to the smell of coffee. Greg hummed a bit as he prepared some in his small kitchen.

"Morning. Coffee?"

Claire rubbed her eyes and gave a moan. "Sure."

He poured her a mug of it and she almost drank it in one gulp. Lestrade sat beside her as she sat up. "I have to head to my office this afternoon. You going to stay at home?"

She shrugged. "What kind of sights do they have here? I might find myself a nice cafe or library."

Lestrade wiped a stain from his shirt and stood up. He grabbed his keys from the table and gave her a small salute. "I'm heading off, then. Be a good girl."

Claire watched him put a gun to his belt and remembered all those years ago when she watched him do the same as a child. She never gave it much thought when she was younger. How there was a chance that that would be the last time she'd see him do so. How he could've easily been shot while on duty.

She shook the thoughts off her mind and Lestrade left the apartment. Claire got up to dress herself and brush her hair. She left the apartment with only her backpack and cellphone. Lestrade didn't live too far from Baker Street and she thought to drop by and visit the cafe right by where Sherlock and John lived.

When she entered, the scent of strong coffee filled her nostrils. The smell made her smile a bit as she sat down and took out her phone. As she went through her social media, she thought about her father again. How she hadn't seen him in some time. It was difficult, especially since they never really sat down and talked of her mother leaving them when she was young.

Sighing through her nose, she lowered her eyes. Over the next few days, she sat in the cafe and tried to take her mind off things. One day, when she walked out of the cafe, she bumped into a man. He forced a piece of paper into her hand and she grimaced.

"What the-"

He quickly walked away and she curiously opened the paper to read it.

 _Get in the taxi._

She looked around and saw a taxi pull up by the sidewalk where she stood. The driver looked at her but said nothing. Claire blinked and slowly walked away without thinking. Suddenly, she bumped into someone else. She screamed.

"Whoa, hey!"

John widened his eyes and held her arm as she gasped.

"...Doctor Watson?"

"Claire, what are you doing here? Are you alright? What's wrong?"

She blinked. "I...nothing. I'm sorry. I didn't see you, Doctor Watson."

"Just John is fine. Is Lestrade at the office?"

Claire nodded. "Yes, he's busy. I was just walking and the strangest thing-"

An arm wrapped around her and John's smile faded. Mycroft's voice came from behind her and she tensed.

"Afternoon, John. I see you've taken time from your busy schedule to keep Miss Lestrade company. I was just looking for her, actually."

John raised his eyebrows. "Well, I won't keep you two busy. Afternoon, Claire."

She watched him go as Mycroft walked her over to the taxi she avoided a few minutes ago. "Very curious to find you here on such a cold afternoon."

Claire tried to pull away, but he held her arm tightly. "Let _go_!"

"You're wanted for questioning. Just come quietly and we can avoid trouble. You'll remember well that I work for the British government. I'm, what people call, one of the good guys."

Claire hesitated as he opened the door for her. "I've yet to see that side of you, Mr. Holmes."

He rolled his eyes. "Get in. Please, I must speak with you."

Her eyebrows raised when he said 'please'. She let her pride get to her and she climbed in. He went inside after her and the taxi drove off. Claire sat as still as a statue as they drove towards an alleyway. Mycroft held his umbrella and stared straight forward as the taxi stopped. He got out and opened her door for her. She climbed out and he shut the door.

"We'll only be a few minutes," he told the driver.

The driver tipped his hat to him as he led Claire deeper into the alley. He stopped and cleared his throat. "Miss Lestrade, I would like you to answer a few questions for me. Just give me an honest reply and things will go smoothly."

Claire looked to her left and right. Then, she shrugged. "Is this...everyone that's coming?"

He grimaced. "Does it matter?"

"Well, given my instructions, there doesn't seem to be much of a reason for me to be completely honest with a man who asked me to go on a taxi drive into an alley. I thought you'd have a few more tricks up your sleeve."

"I only ask that you answer me honestly, Miss Lestrade. Is that so difficult a thing to do?"

"No, sir. I just don't feel obligated to do so."

He stepped towards her and stared down at her. "Just. Answer."

He gave his umbrella a twirl and began his series of questions. Claire hugged herself as a small breeze came their way. Mycroft began to circle her as he began. "What brings you to Baker Street every day?"

"Coffee," Claire lied.

"You've only had coffee twice since you've been going there. Tell the truth."

Her jaw dropped. "Have you been spying on me?!"

Mycroft frowned. "Don't make this more difficult. What brings you to Baker Street on a daily basis?"

"What's it to _you_?"

"Miss Lestrade, my brother is a very vulnerable man, although he may act-"

Claire threw her hands up. "Who in _God's_ name was talking about your brother?!"

Mycroft paused. Claire looked at him as if his hair had just turned blue. "My brother solves cases and has a great mind. There are many people looking to him. Some in a heroic way, but he also has his enemies. Your father must've told you of a man named-"

"My father has only told me that Sherlock was a great man and he admired him. He's a consulting detective and his work has gotten him a lot of publicity. I barely know the man, and I respect him because my father does. He trusts him. You should be taking notes."

Mycroft lowered his eyes and nodded. "I understand. Forgive me for...taking up your time. I was only looking out for my brother. I've had a talk like this with Doctor Watson. You're not the only one."

Claire adjusted her backpack on her shoulder and sighed. "Oh, really? And, here I thought I was lucky. Am I free to go, warden?"

He gave a nod. She sighed and turned her back to him. Mycroft followed after and closed her door when she tried to open it. She gave him a look. "What now?"

Mycroft gripped his umbrella tightly, hesitating. "I...would it be too much for me to...make it up to you?"

She nearly fainted. "What? Like how?"

"Like...maybe try to do this again. But, more properly. It's allpart of my reputation, you see."

"Oh, you must have an interesting one."

He gave her a serious look. "Please.."

Sighing, she looked down. "I'll think about it."

"I need a specific day. I'm very busy and I don't-"

Claire's hands grabbed his wrist as she kneed his gut. He bent over as he gave a large groan, allowing her a shot at elbowing the back of his neck. He was down in a few seconds as she took deep breaths. "I said I'll _think_ about it, Mr. Holmes. Honestly, do you ever just listen to someone else's words or do they just go through your head?"

He groaned and got up, wiping his suit. "This is a new suit."

She opened her door and got inside. "Bill me."


	3. Chapter 3

"You'll love the coffee here," Claire said as she parked Lestrade's car into a parking spot.

Lestrade gave small shrug. "We'll have to wait and see, won't we?"

They entered the coffee shop, escaping the cold and snowy weather. It hadn't snowed much, though. Claire ordered the coffee as Lestrade found them a table. "Well, it definitely smells good in here."

"I think it's a nice place. Quiet and peaceful."

When their order was called, Claire gave Lestrade his coffee first and he raised his cup. "Cheers."

He took a sip and savored it. Claire smiled as his eyebrows raised. "Not bad!"

Suddenly, there was screaming outside the cafe. Lestrade shot to his feet and hurried out. Claire followed after him and she froze when there were shots fired. More people screamed and hurried into buildings to hide, but no one appeared to have been shot. Lestrade pointed at Claire. ordering her to stay inside the cafe. Police cars filled the street as more shots were heard. Still, no one seemed hurt.

Claire didn't go inside the cafe, but she stood at the front as police approached 221B. The wall by the door had been written over with graffiti.

 _GET SHERLOCK :)_

Lestrade read it and his jaw dropped. Large black cars appeared and Mycroft hurried out of one. He hurried to the door of 221B in a bit of a panic. Claire stepped towards the door. A shot was heard and it rang into the window above the door. Mycroft looked up in shock. A large shattering of glass was heard as more bullets were heard. This time, they were being shot through the cafe window. The shatters filled the air and Claire covered her head, screaming.

Someone wrapped their arms around her and dragged her to the ground. More shots were heard and Claire felt bits of glass falling on her head, but not harming her. Opening her eyes, she looked up and saw Mycroft holding onto her. Her eyes scanned the crowd as two more shots were heard. One scraped a police officer's arm and he fell down, grasping the wound.

The other bullet went into Lestrade. Claire's eyes widened as his did the same. He slowly groaned and went down. She managed to get up, but Mycroft held onto her. "No! Stay down!"

His arms wrapped around her as she tried to run out into the street where her father lay. An ambulance arrived a few seconds later as the shooting seemed to have stopped. Mycroft finally released Claire as she ran towards Lestrade. John Watson appeared out of the flat, unharmed but pale as a ghost. His arm was around Mrs. Hudson, who was in hysterics.

Lestrade was picked up by an ambulance and taken away. Claire only had a small scratch on her cheek from Mycroft dragging her down onto the glass covered ground. John and Mrs. Hudson were being taken care of as Mycroft had the whole thing supervised and taken care of. Claire hugged herself as she walked over to her car. Mycroft spotted her and stood in her way to her car.

"We can't let you leave," he said, calmly.

Her eyes darkened. "My father's been shot."

"Exactly. It's not safe for you to leave here without a proper escort."

"I'm going to see him."

He sighed through his nose and nodded. "Come."

John spotted them and hurried over when he saw the scratch on Claire's cheek. "Good God, are you alright?"

Claire didn't reply. John grimaced. "Where's Lestrade? Shouldn't he be-"

Mycroft gave him a look and John felt a sick feeling in his stomach. "Is he..."

"He's been shot. He wasn't dead when they took him."

John put his hands on Claire's shoulders, swallowing. "Would you like a ride to the hospital?"

Mycroft glanced at Claire as her eyes lit up a bit. But, he spoke up first. "I..we aren't allowing anyone to leave. I'll be taking her. Come along."

He led Claire away as she thanked John anyway. They entered one of the large black vans and he ordered them to drive to the hospital. Claire had small scrapes on her hands and she rubbed them, gently. She glanced over at Mycroft and saw that his hands were badly scraped. She hadn't noticed, but his suit was scratched and dirty. His right cheek was also cut.

"Is he going to die?"

Mycroft felt his chest tighten. He looked over at Claire and she saw uncertainty in his eyes. "I don't know."

When thru arrived at the hospital, Claire was not allowed in. Lestrade was in critical condition. She felt her eyes water as she argued with a nurse.

"I'm his daughter!"

"I'm aware of that, ma'am, but we cannot allow you-"

Mycroft stepped in and spoke sternly. "I work for the British government and I demand that you let this woman in to see her father or else I'll have everyone in this room fired, starting with you."

The nurse froze and stuttered. "I...I can't let you in. I'm so sorry! I would if I could but I-"

Mycroft told her to relax as Claire sat in the waiting room. She hugged herself and just prayed that her father would be alright. Her eyes looked up when she noticed Mycroft hadn't sat dow . He was pacing.

Claire spoke up. "I can't lose him."

Mycroft paused. "What?"

She felt herself shaking as she blinked away tears. She couldn't hold them in and began to cry. As she wiped her eyes, Mycroft stood there. He awkwardly sat beside her and cleared his throat.

Comforting words wouldn't come out. Frankly, comforting people wasn't his best skill. Claire sniffed and exhaled. "I'm sorry.."

"No..it's fine."

A doctor appeared and Mycroft nearly leaped out of his seat. Claire prepared for the worst as she clenched her fists.

The doctor pointed at her. "Are you the man's daughter?"

Claire nodded and started shaking again. Mycroft felt as if every hair on his body was raised.

"He's bleeding pretty badly, but the bullet didn't go through him. So, there's some good news."

Mycroft grimaced. "Good news?"

The doctor gave a nod and explained. "Yes, if the bullet had gone through him, he'd be bleeding twice as much. We've gotten the bullet out so he's still hanging on. We'll let her in once he wakes up from his surgery."

A bit of relief filled Claire as she exhaled. Mycroft closed his eyes and sighed. The doctor left then alone once more. Mycroft felt his cell phone buzz and he went away to answer it. Claire sat alone until he returned. His face was stern and he sat beside her.

"Would you like to remain here until your father awakens?"

She nodded. "You've done enough. Thank you. You can leave if you'd like."

He thought about it. Why shouldn't he leave? He had brought her over and done what he said he'd do. "I better stay. I have more news, now that I recall it. We think we know who caused the shootings."

Claire's eyes filled with concern. "Who?"

Mycroft hesitated as if the very name were a curse. "I mentioned to you that my brother has enemies. One of them plays this, sort of, game with him. He plays by his own rules and for his own enjoyment. His name was James Moriarty."

"Was?"

"We thought he was dead, but evidence tells us he's come back."

"But...why would he cause the shooting? What was he hoping to gain?"

Lowering his eyes, Mycroft replied. "We don't have any answers yet. But my people are working on it as we speak."

"So, my father's being spied on? Am I being spied on too? Will he try to kill me next?"

Mycroft's face hardened. "No. I won't let that happen. I swear, it won't happen. I'll do the best that I can to find some answers."

Claire stared at him and felt a sense of sincerity coming from him. She no longer saw an uptight government employee. She saw a kind and sensible man. He looked away from her and cleared his throat. "I have to make a call."

He walked off and Claire felt a small hint of security and hope. She leaned her head back and exhaled, trying to relax.


	4. Chapter 4

Lestrade woke up about two hours later and Claire was called in. She sat by his bed and he gave her a weak smile.

"How you holding up, darling?"

She held his hand and noticed how cold he felt. "Fine. You?"

"I've felt worse."

Claire scoffed a bit. "What could be worse than being shot?"

Lestrade lowered his eyes and Claire stared. He swallowed and paused.

"Darling...I know we never really discussed this, but..."

"What?"

"Your mother."

Claire sighed. "There's a good reason for that."

"I'm sure there are plenty of good reasons. But-"

"Dad," she broke in.

He stopped and noticed her eyes watering. For now, he stopped. His hand held hers tightly and he cleared his throat.

"Did Sherlock and John make it out alright?"

Claire tried to remember. "I saw John coming out of the building with Mrs. Hudson, but I didn't see Sherlock. I think he's alright, though. Mycroft doesn't look-"

"Mycroft?"

"He brought me over. He didn't seen worried about Sherlock, so I can only assume he's alright."

A nurse walked in with a cup of water for Lestrade and he drank. Claire noticed it was getting late and decided to go before she was kicked out.

"Get some rest, love. Don't worry about me," Lestrade said as she kissed his cheek.

"I'll try and be back tomorrow," she promised.

It was dark outside and she sighed as she left the room. She left the room and entered the waiting room to find Mycroft, sitting in a chair. His head was leaned back against the wall and his eyes were closed. He was sleeping.

She shook her head and smiled a bit. A woman appeared in the room and pointed at her. "Are you Claire?"

"Yes, who are you?"

"I was told to bring your car here to the hospital. Sorry it took so long!"

Claire grimaced and followed the woman out of the room. "My car is..here?"

The blonde woman nodded. "Yes, Mr. Holmes asked me to bring it here before he left Baker street."

Claire couldn't help but wonder why Sherlock would be so concerned about her car, but she smiled. "I'll have to thank him. Thank you."

When Claire spotted her car, she hopped in and drove home. As she parked at the apartment, she saw a small notebook on the passenger's seat that she had never seen before. It was lavender with small white flowers printed on it. She held it in both hands and opened it.

Inside was a phone number with a small paragraph beneath it.

 _A small gift to help you organize things._

 _If you require any kind of assistance, give me a call._

 _Holmes_

Claire closed the notebook and entered the apartment. As she went to sleep that night, she thought of Sherlock and John. She hoped they were alright and that Mycroft didn't get into too much trouble for sleeping in the waiting room.

The next morning, Claire woke up when she heard the door bell ring. She accidentally rolled off the couch and groaned. Quickly, she tried to fix her hair as she hurried to open the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Her eyes widened as she saw Mycroft at her door. As usual, he wore a suit and looked like a sharp business man.

Claire, on the other hand, had quickly put her hair up in a bun and had a bit of dry drool on the left wide of her mouth

"Mycroft?"

"Forgive me, I should've called ahead of time."

Claire shook her head. "No, no, it's fine. Is something wrong with my father?"

"No, he's alright. I was just there. He's doing well. He'll just be in bed for a while."

She nodded. "I see. Would you..did you want to come in?"

Mycroft hesitated. "Ah, yes, if that's alright. Thank you. I just wanted to speak with you. Won't be long."

They entered the apartment, which Mycroft expected to look like a pigsty. However, it was clean. They sat at the table as Claire offered him something to drink.

"I was going to make some coffee," she said.

Mycroft shook his head. "Oh, no, thank you. I'm not very fond of it."

"Tea, then?"

"Yes, that'll do. Thank you."

She noticed that 'thank you' seemed to be his favorite thing to say. A kettle was set on the stove as she sat back down.

Mycroft noticed her notebook on the table and side-smiled. "Did you like the notebook?"

Claire glanced over at it. "Oh, yes. Sherlock left it in my car when he brought my car to the hospital last night. Is he doing alright?"

Mycroft didn't reply right away. He grimaced at what she said. "Sherlock? But, I-"

Claire gasped as her phone buzzed on her lap. "Oh, excuse me. Hello?"

She got up and walked to the side as Mycroft held the notebook in his hands. He let fall onto the table with a small thud and sighed. The kettle gave a long whistle and he got to turn the stove off.

He looked around the kitchen for cups and poured the tea for the both of them.

"Mycroft?"

He turned. "What?"

"Oh, the tea's ready? John called and said that the workers have managed to paint over the graffiti on the door at 221B. I'll have to drop by and see after I visit Dad at the hospital."

Mycroft brought the cups over and they talked some more. "You said you wanted to talk to me earlier."

Mycroft looked up at her after he took a gulp of his tea. "Ah, yes. I was just going to tell you to be careful. I mentioned that we have a clue as to who was behind the shooting."

Claire sipped her tea as she nodded.

"You'll need to lay low and be careful who you trust. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think-"

He leaned forward a bit. "It's critical that you're careful. Any slip up could be dangerous."

She stared at him for a moment and gave a nod. "I understand, Mycroft."

Without another word, he stood up. "Very well. I shall leave you now."

He walked towards the door and she stood up as well. "Mycroft?"

He stopped at the door and turned to face her. "Yes?"

"I didn't really thank you properly for...saving my life yesterday."

Her eyes glances down at his hands and how they were still badly scraped. He followed her gaze as she stepped closer to him.

"It was nothing.."

Her hand reached out and held his as she stared at the scrapes. He gave her a nod and stepped away. "I just wanted to be sure you were clear on being cautious. I hope your father gets well soon."

Claire looked up at him and nodded. "Yes, thank you."

She watched him leave and closed the door. Sighing, she sat at the table and sipped her lukewarm tea. Mycroft had changed over the past few days. He wasn't a complete little girl's blouse, as she thought he was.

Lestrade entered her mind and she lowered her eyes at her tea. The flavor made her wince and she put the dishes away into the sink.

Mycroft got into his car and slammed the door. He sat there for a moment, puzzled.

 _ **Bloody job well done, Mycroft.**_

He could practically hear Sherlock's voice and see him smirking. Picking up his cell phone, he dialed his brother's number. He closed his eyes when the dialing stopped.

 _"I take it the visit didn't go too well, brother,"_ Sherlock answered.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "It was fine."

 _"Oh, I don't think so. You wouldn't be calling if it went well."_

"I said it was fine. She...thinks you brought her car to the hospital.."

There was a muffled laugh from the other line and Mycroft sighed. He was tempted to hang up, but he remained on the phone. "I don't understand women. I really don't."

 _"You think I do? "_

Mycroft hung up. He drove off to his office and brainstormed. So much was going through his mind. He wasn't sure how to explain it even feel about it.


	6. Chapter 6

John Watson saw Sherlock end his call with a smile on his face. He knew he had just talked with Mycroft, but that usually never ended in a smile.

"Was that Mycroft?"

Sherlock plucked his violin saying, "Mmhmm."

"Something happen?"

Sherlock played a chord before he answered. "Correction: something is happening."

John tried to think but wasn't following. He merely shrugged and continued reading the book in his hands.

"Mycroft was rather timid when we were growing up. You'd never guess it, though. He's always so uptight and stupid. But, he was."

John blinked. "Ah. Has he...met someone?"

"He has. It's driving him mad."

"Woman?"

"Yes."

"Someone I know?"

Another pluck of the violin. "Yep."

John thought about it, but no one came to mind. "Think I'll head to the cafe downstairs. You coming?"

"No, I've got that bloody case Mycroft asked me about."

John nodded as he remembered. He grabbed his coat and laptop, and headed to the cafe on his own. When he got his coffee, he sat in a corner and began typing. His blog had gotten several views and he smiled to himself as he typed.

"John?"

He looked up and raised his eyebrows when he saw Mycroft. "Mycroft?"

Mycroft had his umbrella in his hand as he removed a scarf from around his neck. "Where's Sherlock? Is he coming?"

John shook his head. "No. I'm just working on my blog. I was just writing about-"

"Thank Heavens," Mycroft cut in as he sat in front of John.

Sighing, John put his laptop aside and stared at Mycroft. "Is he in trouble? Is it the drugs?"

"No, this isn't about Sherlock. It's... I've got a bit of a dilemma."

"And, you're asking me because..?"

Mycroft closed his eyes, irritated. "I would appreciate it if you didn't ask me questions. Just listen, please. It's not easy for me to...discuss this."

John folded his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. "Alright. I'll do the best that I can, but I'm not that type of doctor."

Mycroft tried to think for a moment. He took a deep breath and spoke up. "This...person isn't getting out of my mind. I don't know why. We've only known each other for some time. But...something about them has stuck with me. Like a...spark."

John nodded as he continued. "I've never felt like this before. They seem to have grown on me..."

To be frank, John had never seen Mycroft like this. He didn't seem like the stuck up government employee that he made clear to everyone he spoke to. He spoke like they were having a normal conversation.

"How often do you see this person?"

"Recently. Circumstances have caused us to see each other often, but she doesn't seem to mind."

John's eyebrows raised and Mycroft froze when he realized what he just said. Could it be the "she" Sherlock was referring to?

"So, it's a woman, then?"

Mycroft gave him a look. "Don't ask questions."

John tried to brainstorm like Sherlock did. He examined the whole situation. Mycroft had come into the cafe. Why? He clearly just bumped into John, so he had to have been here for another reason and it wasn't for the coffee. Mycroft hated coffee.

Then again, Mycroft had eyes all over the city, so he could've been spying on the area for any sign or clue to the shooting. But, it definitely seemed like Mycroft didn't expect John to be here.

John dared and asked, "Were you expecting someone to meet you here?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No, why?"

Suddenly, John remembered Mycroft asked if Sherlock was coming, so if he had been eavesdropping, he would've known John was going to be here alone and wouldn't have been surprised to see him. He wondered how Claire would've reached if she-

"Oh my God..."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "What?"

John couldn't believe it. "It's Claire, isn't it?"

Just hearing her name made Mycroft freeze. John's jaw hung open and he shook his head. "No.."

"Shut up," Mycroft spat.

"You're in love with her?"

"I never said I loved her!"

"Fine. You care about her. Why? I thought you despised her."

Mycroft stared out the window for a moment and sighed. "I...I just like her spirit. She's a tough nut to crack, but also very kind. And...her hair is just...beautiful. Seeing her care for her father is...very moving to me."

John felt like someone else was sitting in front of him. "Sherlock knows."

"He's only guessed. I just...I think she's in love with him."

Ouch. John tilted his head in confusion. "How do you know?"

"I thought she came to the café to see him. That's why I..."

"What? What happened?"

Mycroft looked away like a small child admitting to breaking a vase. "I had a rather...private meeting with her about my brother."

John instantly remembered when he first met Mycroft. He'd basically kidnapped him and asked him what he knew of Sherlock, and offered him money to spy on him. He could only imagine how Claire took it.

"What did she say?" John asked.

Mycroft rubbed the back of his neck and gave a small chuckle. "She's got quite a good arm. But, nonetheless, my theory of her seeing my brother weren't exactly correct. She really does enjoy this place."

John finally understood. "That's why you're here. You hoped to see her."

"It doesn't matter. She prefers Sherlock over me."

John bit his lip. "But...it shouldn't bother you."

"It doesn't bother me! I don't care. It was just an emotional mixup."

Mycroft tried not to raise his voice, although it was difficult. John seemed to look behind him and gulped. "Well, good talk, Mycroft. I think I'll be going."

John stood up and Mycroft sighed. "Wait."

"What now?"

He fiddled with his umbrella. "Do you...do you think I could've had a chance? With her, I mean?"

John cleared his throat. "I-I don't know, Mycroft. Maybe we should talk about this-"

"Is that all the advice I get? Do you know how difficult it is for me to talk about this? I've never felt like this about anyone but Claire. She makes me feel.."

John's eyes widened as he realized he couldn't stop him.

"..I don't know. It's a mixture of good and awkward feelings."

A small voice came from behind. "Mycroft?"

John felt his shoulders slump as Claire finally spoke up. Mycroft felt as if his soul had just left his body. His cheeks turned red as he slowly turned and came face-to-face with Claire Lestrade.

They stared at each other for a moment until he broke the silence. "How...how much did you hear?"

She swallowed. "I heard enough."

Awkwardly, she turned and walked out of the coffee shop. Mycroft looked at John for some reaction and he just stood there, stunned. Without thinking, Mycroft ran out of the café after her. He caught up with her and tried to catch his breath.

"Wait!"

Claire stopped as she, too, was trying to catch her breath. Mycroft stepped up to her and tried to speak clearly. "I...I'm sorry. I never meant for you to hear that. Please, forgive me."

She stared up at him. "It was you. You brought my car to the hospital and left the notebook. Not Sherlock."

"Yes. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

He hesitated. "Your father, my behavior the day we met...everything."

She felt her heartbeat against her chest. "I'm sorry too. For, you know, that scrap we had. I didn't mean to hurt you so badly."

He gave a chuckle. "It didn't hurt that much."

"I'll have to try harder next time, then."

They shared an amused smile as they stood in middle of the sidewalk. His smile faded and he cleared his throat. "I should go. Work needs to be done."

She grimaced as she watched him turn and start walking away. "Mycroft."

He froze. She walked up to him and he turned to look at her. "I don't have feelings for Sherlock. I never did. He's brilliant, but...no."

Mycroft looked at her softly as she gave a sigh. "When you saved me from the shattering glass and bullets, I didn't expect it to be you. I think that's what made that day stick with me. It was you."

She felt his hand cup the side of her face. His thumb stroked her cheek and she looked up into his eyes. "I can't explain things as well as you do. Funny thing. I work for the government and I can't explain my own feelings."

Claire shrugged. "Everyone needs a bloody boost."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips onto his. His eyes widened but slowly closed as he kissed her back. John watched from afar and folded his arms.

"Well...he did it."

No one could be entirely sure, but they were sure that romantic violin music was playing from 221B that day, but Sherlock always denies it.


	7. Chapter 7

_I know this love of mine_

 _will never die._

 _x_

 _x_

 _x_

"Why are you telling me this, brother? I'd think you'd want to keep this a secret from me?"

Mycroft and Claire sat together in the flat as John stood there with his arms folded. Sherlock played his violin as Mycroft spoke.

"I preferred to tell you myself instead of you rubbing it in with your deductions," Mycroft replied.

Sherlock chuckled. "You always said caring was a weakness, brother. Now, look at yourself. However, I will say I'm impressed. We always said as children that I'd have a girlfriend first. Seems you've won again."

Mycroft frowned. "I always win."

John looked at Claire as she put her hand on Mycroft's. "Have you told your father yet, Claire?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. We've only just decided about this whole relationship."

Mycroft stood up and brushed off his coat. Sherlock kept playing his violin as he stared out he window. John watched as Claire stood up and followed Mycroft to the door. He smiled at her and shook her head. "I'm sure he'll be as happy for you as...we are."

"Oh, I'm sure he will," Sherlock said, smirking.

John rolled his eyes and sent them on their way. Mycroft put his arm around Claire as they stepped out of the flat and were greeted by the wind cold from outside. He walked her to his car and they drove to the hospital. When they arrived, Lestrade was in hysterics. He couldn't believe it.

"This is some bloody joke," he insisted.

Claire smiled. "It's not a joke. We're together. He just wanted to come and ask for your blessing."

Lestrade glanced at Mycroft and scoffed. "How can I refuse him anything? Besides, Claire, you're old enough to make your own decisions."

Mycroft shook Lestrade's hand and cleared his throat. "I merely did it out of respect, Detective Inspector. It was all my doing."

Lestrade held Claire's hand tightly and glanced at Mycroft and asked, "Could we get a minute alone?"

He glanced at Claire and she smiled. "Of course. I'll be outside."

When Mycroft left the room, Lestrade looked at Claire and examined her face. She smiled and he couldn't help but smile back. Chuckling, he shook his head. "Of all the fish in the sea..."

She shrugged and understood how he felt. "He can be a bit uptight, but I've seen a different side of him. I like him...very much."

"You both look happy, but will he maintain that happiness for long? I'd hate to see you suffer the fate that I have, darling. Don't be blinded by your emotions like I was. You're smarter than I was at your age."

"Don't speak of yourself so cruelly. You didn't know what she was. It wasn't your fault."

He lowered his eyes as she squeezed his hand. "Then, love, I wish you both the best."

They hugged each other as he grunted from pain. Claire gasped and pulled away as his hand went to his side. "It's alright. It's nothing. Go on and meet up with your boyfriend."

"I'll have the nurse come in," she said, giving him a final squeeze of his hand.

She hurried out to meet Mycroft outside of the room. "He needs a nurse. He's in a bit of pain."

Mycroft walked off. "Let me call the nurse."

A nurse came and checked on Lestrade as Claire and Mycroft decided to return to Baker street to get her car. It was a chilly night and Mycroft thought she'd like to get a hot drink with him. She agreed and they drove off to Mycroft's favorite restaurants for a warm drink. They sat together as Claire rubbed her arms to keep warm. He removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders. They drank tea and talked a bit.

"So, working for the government...is it like it is in the movies?" Claire asked.

Mycroft grimaced. "How do they portray it in movies?"

"You know, everything's classified and there's secret things going on behind the country's back, but only the government know about it because it's secret."

He smirked. "That's class-"

She laughed and he chuckled. "Never mind. Do you have a favorite band?"

"Certainly. The Beatles."

Her eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Why is that so shocking?"

She shrugged. "I figured you'd be a fan of classical music. I don't know why."

"I enjoy classical music. Do you?"

"Yes. Mozart is my favorite."

"Beethoven. I always preferred him, although Mozart was impressive."

He rubbed his left arm a bit and exhaled. Claire tugged his coat as it sat upon her and bit her lip. She slowly removed it and stood up to put it back on his shoulders.

"No, you keep it. I'm fine."

Gently, he held her hand and handed her his coat. She stared at it and then looked into his eyes. "Why are you so stubborn, Mycroft Holmes?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," he said, quietly.

He stood up and wrapped the coat around her and back onto her shoulders. His hand held strands of her hair and admired its color and feel. She placed her hand on his chest and looked up at him. "We were drinking tea until you decided to get sappy."

He shrugged. "You should've kept the bloody coat on, then."

"Mycroft Holmes?"

The color from Mycroft's face seemed to fade when he heard the voice. Slowly, he and Claire turned to greet its owner. Claire had deduced it to be an Irish accent as she stared at the man with dark hair and a slightly fancier suit than Mycroft's. He smiled at them and held out his hand to Claire.

"Richard Brooke. It's a pleasure."

Claire blinked. "Hello. Do I know you?"

Mycroft stood in front of her. "Old friend of mine. Has a nasty habit of appearing at the wrong time, don't you, Richard?"

Moriarty shrugged. "You know how I get, Mycroft. Good times, eh? Is this your girlfriend? She's just beautiful."

Clenching his fists, Mycroft put a hand on Moriarty's shoulder. "Let's talk for a moment, shall we?"

The two men walked off as Claire sat back down, blushing. Mycroft and Moriarty walked into an alley where they were alone. Moriarty couldn't stop giggling. "You have taste. She's just lovely. You think she has a thing for Irishmen?"

Mycroft slammed his fist into Moriarty's jaw. Grunting, Moriarty tasted blood in his mouth. "You'll regret doing that."

"I'll take my chances," Mycroft growled.

"What chances? You've taken red paint and drawn a big target on that girl's forehead! You've made yourself more vulnerable, old boy. That's so disappointing. Sherlock knocks it, but he doesn't have the guts to tell you."

"You stay away from her," Mycroft spat.

Moriarty laughed aloud and rubbed his sore jaw. Those dark eyes haunted Mycroft as he circled around him. "Threats are so boring. You've become as ordinary as your brother, Ice Man. But, I suppose that's why I've decided to let that girl live this long. She seems capable of bringing you back into shape."

Growing angry with rage, Mycroft tried his best to contain himself. "Leave her out of this. So help me God, if you harm her-"

"Like I said, she'd be useful in bringing you back to shape. However, you're more than welcome to explain the situation to her. It'll just get her a bullet in the head. So, I'd keep my mouth shut, if I were you, but that's just me."

"What do you want?"

Moriarty thought about it as if he wasn't really sure. "I want something that can't be given to me by anyone, but you. I'll keep in touch."

He walked into the shadows and Mycroft was alone. He breathed heavily as he stepped away. When he was able to breathe without trying too hard, he returned to find Claire still at the table. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to take long."

She sighed. "I wasn't sure if you'd be coming back. I think it's late. I'll be heading home."

Mycroft lowered his eyes and sighed. "I truly am sorry. Can we try again tomorrow?"

She smiled and thought about it. "Of course. Call me."

They left the restaurant as Mycroft walked her to her car. She unlocked it and looked at him one more time. "Can I ask a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Well, can you do it?"

He grimaced but smiled. "I need to know what it is, first."

"Can you check on my father, please? On your way home? They won't allow family in at this hour."

Mycroft shrugged. "What makes you think they'll let _me_ in?"

They exchanged amused smiles and went their separate ways. Mycroft climbed into his car and drove off to the hospital. As he drove, he turned on the radio and, oddly enough, a Beatles song was playing. He hummed along to it as he drove. He easily got access to Lestrade's room when he arrived and grimaced when the lights were off in the room. Taking out his cellphone, he used its light to guide him to a light switch. When he flicked it on, his heart stopped.

Lestrade wasn't in bed. He wasn't anywhere in the room. Mycroft tensed and looked around the room. He hurried out of the room and bumped into a nurse who was holding a clipboard. She gasped and apologized.

"The patient! The one staying in this room...where is he?"

She glanced at the room number and at her clipboard. "Uh...21A, that's Gregory Lestrade. He's supposed to be in bed, sir."

"He's gone. He's not there!"

The nurse grimaced. "But, he's supposed to-"

Mycroft hurried back into the room with his heart beating fast. He walked up to the bed and discovered a note on it. He grabbed it and read it.

 _I told you you'd regret it :)_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Believe it or not, Mycroft is the hardest to write about. It's hard not to make him too fluffy or too cold, but I think he has his moments where he can be too much of one or the other :)**

 _x_

 _x_

 _x_

Mycroft crumpled the paper and shoved it in his pocket. With a heavy heart, he took out his phone and called the police and the one person he could think of. Sherlock sat up on the couch when he heard his phone vibrate, John looked up from his laptop when he heard it too. He reached over and grabbed it as it sat on the table in front of him.

"It's your brother," he told Sherlock.

Sherlock laid back down. "Oh."

John blinked. "Aren't you going to-"

"If it's an emergency, he can call again or leave a voicemail," Sherlock said, plainly.

Sighing, John answered it. "Hello? No, it's John. He's...busy. Wait...oh my God. But, are you sure?"

John got up and grabbed his coat as he hung up. "Sherlock, it's Lestrade!"

He grimaced. "I thought you said it was Mycroft."

"No, not that. He's missing! Mycroft said he's not in his hospital room and didn't mention anything about leaving to anyone."

Quickly, Sherlock got off the couch and grabbed his scarf and coat. They left Baker street in a rush, and arrived at the hospital around the same time Claire did.

"How can he just disappear?" Claire asked as she hugged herself.

Mycroft held her close as she stood worried sick. Sherlock examined the room as John told Claire to breathe and calm down. The police closed off the room as they let Sherlock investigate first. "Whoever abducted him knew he was here."

John grimaced. "You're saying he was...kidnapped?"

"Oh, God," Claire whispered as she covered her face with her hands.

Mycroft rested his chin on her head as she leaned it against his chest. Sherlock got on his knees and looked under the bed. "Scrapes of sneakers left on the floor and finger prints, as well. He didn't go without a fight, but they cleaned up the room _almost_ well enough to keep any traces out."

"Who could've done this?" John asked.

Sherlock paused. "There had to have been at least two or three people who got him out. Lestrade's wound was still a bit fresh, so he wouldn't have been strong enough to leave this building without being forced to. Thus, he was abducted _and_ it was by someone who knew he was here. As far as the public knew, two officers were shot that day and only Lestrade was hospitalized for more than two days. So, the kidnapper knew he was wounded badly enough to still be here _or_ this is something much more personal."

John's eyes widened. "So...the shooter and kidnapper are the same person."

"That or one works for or with the other-"

Sherlock stopped. His eyes closed as his hands went halfway up in the air. They flicked away invisible forces and John stared. He was going into his mind palace.

"Someone was after him all along," Sherlock said, opening his eyes.

Claire grimaced. "What?"

Sherlock paced the room and Mycroft and John glanced at each other.

"The other officer only left with a grazed arm. The shooter had good aim. He knew what he was doing when he shot Lestrade directly in his back," Sherlock thought aloud.

John thought about it, but Mycroft shook his head. "How can you know he had good aim?"

Sherlock frowned at him. "Lestrade doesn't stand around while on the job. He had to have been moving when the shooting was happening, along with the other officer that was shot. The shooter specifically wanted Lestrade shot the way that he was. Not only that, he fired at the cafe windows several times while Claire stood there. He could've shot her, but he didn't. She wasn't a moving target. He wasn't after her."

"So?" Mycroft asked.

" _Plus,_ the shooter didn't actually shoot someone until Lestrade arrived with the police," John realized.

"He's been after Lestrade since then. But...why?"

John shrugged. "To get to us?"

Sherlock shook his head as he ran a hand through his curly hair. "He's not stupid. Why Lestrade of all the people we know? What makes him stand..."

He stopped when his eyes made eye contact with Claire. "...out?"

Mycroft held her tightly. "What are you saying?"

Sherlock pointed a finger at Claire, making her uneasy. "Her. The kidnapper is trying to hurt her."

John grimaced and folded his arms. Claire didn't understand. "But, why me?"

"Any past enemies, Claire?" Sherlock asked.

"N-No. Not that I can remember," she replied.

"Sherlock, enough. She's going through enough already without you making it any worse," Mycroft spat.

None of it was adding up. John narrowed his eyes as he tried to think. The room was silent for a moment as Claire wiped her eyes and Sherlock stood by his theory.

"But, I thought the kidnapper was trying to get at us," John said.

"Not us, John. He's trying to get through to Mycroft by using Claire. He knows what a cold and unemotional man my brother is, so he uses the only thing that he knows will make him bend: Claire."

Mycroft knew exactly that Sherlock was saying. He was right. This was all Moriarty, but Sherlock just hadn't said it. If anyone figured it out, Moriarty might harm Lestrade. Mycroft had to keep Sherlock's mind off of Moriarty. "Are you finished?"

Sherlock snapped. He charged at Mycroft, grabbing his shirt collar and slamming him against the wall. Claire gasped and John hurried over as Sherlock started yelling. "I always admired your questioning attitude, brother, but right now, you're really beginning to irritate me."

Mycroft felt as if a statue was holding him against the wall. "Get off me, Sherlock."

"You know _exactly_ what's going on, and you're electing to ignore it, like an idiot," Sherlock spat.

"Sherlock!" Claire gasped.

"Sherlock, stop it, this isn't good," John scolded, frowning.

"She's gone through enough this evening to be hearing you enjoying this, Sherlock. Show some _compassion_ for once in your miserable life," Mycroft retorted.

Sherlock scoffed. "What do you know of compassion?"

Claire yanked Sherlock away from Mycroft with a grunt. Mycroft adjusted his collar and tie as John stared at Claire wide eyed. She walked over to Mycroft and made sure he was alright. Sherlock stared at Mycroft as John tried to speak calmly. "Sherlock, let's just go. I think you can solve the rest of this back at the flat."

Sherlock stormed out of the room as John glanced at Claire on final time. "Not the way I would've handled it, but...good arm."

Claire shook her head and John left the room. Mycroft looked at her in surprise. "Thank you for that, by the way."

He pulled her into a hug as she glanced back at the empty bed. Sherlock and John left the hospital in silence as Sherlock was still trying to get over Claire's sudden and unexpected move. John smiled to himself as he could read Sherlock's shock on his face. Mycroft, once again, walked Claire to her car as he assured her that he would handle the investigation.

"You've had a long day. I'll find him."

She lowered her eyes and nodded. His hand cupped her cheek and lifted it so she would look up at him. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Yes," he replied.

Her hands held his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed her back as his hand went to the back of her head and pushed her closer to him. When they pulled away, she let her hand slide down his arm and to his hand. She held it tightly until she let go and got into her car. He watched her drive away and got into his own car. The drive home was miserable as he called one of his colleagues to take over for him for the night.

As he pulled up on his driveway, his phone vibrated. An unknown number was calling him and he held his breath. Hesitant, he answered.

"Hello?"

 _"Bravo, bravo. I'm impressed. The Holmes boys are back."_

Mycroft's face hardened. "Where is he? If you harm him-"

" _I wouldn't lay a finger on Sherlock's pet, after John, of course! As long as you keep this up, he'll be alright. How's Claire holding up? Maybe I should visit her and cheer her up."_

"Leave her alone!"

" _No need to be so loud! I can see why you like her. She really does have a good arm. So touchingly loyal. Just remember that if anyone comes after me, I'll put a bullet into her father, but this time, I'll kill him for good."_

Mycroft hung his head. "Please...just tell me what you want."

 _"Your obedience will do, for now. And, if you try to be noble and try to get Claire out of this, I'll rip the DI's throat out."_

Moriarty hung up and Mycroft sat in his car. He wanted to throw his cellphone onto the cement. Exhaling deeply, he covered his face with his hand and admitted defeat.


	9. Chapter 9

That morning, Claire woke up and rubbed her eyes. She realized she was in her father's bed and was revisited by the memory that he was still missing. Lying back down, she exhaled deeply and cried a bit. What if he wasn't even alive? He must've been so scared. Memories of her being held in his arms when she herself was frightened filled her mind. She stared up at the ceiling and dried her eyes with his blanket.

When she felt enough nerve to get up, she washed her face and got dressed. She checked her phone, but Mycroft hadn't called. Her luggage sat in the middle of the living room and she opened it to take out her CD's. Luckily, Lestrade still kept their old boombox and she was able to put one of her Beatles CD's on. She hummed to the songs as she tried to get her mind off of what was going on by cleaning up the apartment a bit.

Elsewhere in town, Mycroft sat in his office, waiting to hear anything on Lestrade. He typed away at his computer until it notified him of a video message. Without thinking, he clicked it and a poorly lit room filled his screen. In the middle of it was Lestrade. He looked exhausted and weak. Tied to a chair, he hung his head until Moriarty appeared into view.

He stood behind Lestrade and rested his hands on his shoulders. His eyes looked at the camera as he smirked. "Morning, Mr. Holmes from myself and our beloved DI."

Moriarty rested his chin on Lestrade's shoulder and his hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at the camera. A rag was tightly tied between his teeth and his lower lip had dried blood on it. Mycroft tensed but kept watching.

"We thought you'd like to see the kind of fun we have here."

Mycroft knew this game. Moriarty was just poking at Mycroft until he got a reaction out of him, and this was just crossing the line. Moriarty went out of view as a goon walked up to Lestrade and began beating him. Lestrade was a tough one. He only whimpered once and took each punch to the stomach with a grunt but no more. Mycroft didn't watch until the beating was over. Lestrade breathed so heavily and was in a great deal of pain. Blood appeared on his shirt, making Mycroft slam his fist on his desk. His wound had just gotten worse and was in danger of being infected if it hadn't been already.

Moriarty knelt down beside Lestrade and stroked his cheek. "Don't cry. It's okay to be jealous of the new man in your daughter's life. It's normal for daddies to feel this way."

Lestrade grunted as he used whatever strength he had left to kick Moriarty's leg. He fell over and groaned as one of the goons hit Lestrade in the head with his gun. A small cut could be seen where he had been struck and he fell out of consciousness. Moriarty got to his feet, laughing.

"It's never a dull moment around here, Mr. Holmes!"

"Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft quickly pauses the video and looked up at his assistant. She cleared her throat and apologized for interrupting. "Sir, your brother is on the line."

He shut his eyes in annoyance. "Thank you."

His assistant left the room with her heels clicking on the floor as Mycroft grabbed the telephone on his desk. "Yes?"

 _"Why don't you just tell her the truth? You know who has Lestrade and yet-"_

"He'll kill him if anyone goes after him, Sherlock," Mycroft said, plainly.

 _"He won't kill him. Lestrade is his best bet. Moriarty's just playing a game with you. I'll bet he didn't even ask you for anything in return for Lestrade. This isn't about money, Mycroft. He wants to control one of the most powerful men in England!"_

Mycroft gritted his teeth. "Don't speak to me as if I don't see what's happening! There's nothing anyone can do!"

There was a pause. _"I can stop him."_

"You can't solve them all, Sherlock. This is different. There's more lives at stake here than your own. I have to deal with this on my own."

" _Let me help. Please."_

Frowning, he hung up. He glanced back at his computer screen and slowly pressed the space bar on the video. It resumed as Lestrade sat there, unconscious.

Moriarty stared at the camera and Mycroft could almost feel him looking at him through the screen.

"Don't get jealous, Myc. We'll be talking again sooner than you think," Moriarty said.

Mycroft paused the video and turned his face away from the screen. The door in his office opened as his assistant returned with a small box. "It's for you, sir. From your brother."

She handed it to him and waited until she was gone to open it. He untied the small bow on top and removed the lid. Inside the box was an earpiece. Slowly, he put it in his ear but heard nothing. Suddenly, he heard whistling. He grimaced.

"It's like we're completely one, isn't it?" Moriarty asked through the earpiece.

Mycroft's blood froze. "What to you want?"

*I think Claire's feeling lonely. Why don't you go visit her?"

"I refuse," Mycroft spat.

There was a giggle. "Of course you do."

Suddenly, Mycroft heard a muffled scream in the background. It was barely audible, but he knew it was Lestrade. "Stop it! Leave him-"

"Do as I said, Mr. Holmes! I don't think the DI can take anymore hits!" Moriarty sang.

Mycroft shut his eyes and got to his feet. He walked over to his door and left his office. As he drove to Claire's apartment, he gripped the steering wheel tightly. Moriarty hadn't said anything else but he kept going. When he arrived, he approached her door and stood there for a few seconds.

Breathing in, he knocked on the door and closed his eyes until the door opened. He looked up and his heart stopped. Moriarty had answered the door. "Well, you got here fast!"

Mycroft pounced on him and grabbed him by his throat with both hands. "Where is she? What have you done?!"

A soft voice spoke up. "Mycroft? Are you here?"

He slowly let go of Moriarty as he gasped for air. "Good. Very good."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at him. "What the hell are you-"

Claire appeared and smiled at Mycroft. "This is a surprise! Richard told me you were coming soon, but I didn't think it was this soon. He insisted on waiting until you got here because he said you two had a surprise for me."

Mycroft glanced at Moriarty who nodded. "We certainly do! Mycroft insisted on it, actually. He thought it'd be fun if we all went to Baker street for dinner! The real surprise will be revealed there."

Claire looked at Mycroft with raised eyebrows. "Oh, that's lovely. But, are you sure Sherlock won't mind? I mean, John told me he isn't much for family dinners."

Swallowing, Mycroft looked at Moriarty who had stepped behind Claire, raising an eyebrow. "Yes. It's fine. I've spoken with him."

"Perfect. Let's go, then."

Moriarty ledd the way out as Claire grabbed her coat. Mycroft cupped the side of her face and examined her once they were alone. "Are you alright?"

She blinked. "Do I look ill?"

Mycroft stared at her pale skin and bright eyes. He spotted a pile of books on the coffee table and couldn't help but smile. She loved to read and write so much. He himself didn't like to write, but was fond of reading.

"I just wanted to know. You look breathtaking."

She smiled but it slowly faded. "I haven't heard anything from the police. Christmas is right around the corner and I'm...well, I just...I miss him."

Her eyes blinked several times as tears built up. Mycroft wrapped his arm around her and gently shushed her. "He'll be alright. It'll all be alright."

Oh, the lies. He knew those words too well. Flashbacks of Sherlock being under the influence came I to his mind. He tried to not think of them, but it was a struggle. Then, he suddenly remembered. Sherlock. John.

Pulling away, he kissed Claire's cheek and excused himself. "Stay here. I need to call my brother."

He dialed the number and waited. " _Did you miss hearing my voice, brother dear?"_

"Sherlock, this is serious. Moriarty is here at Claire's apartment. We're on our way to Baker street."

A pause. " _What? What's happened? Is she hurt?"_

"No. He's claiming to be Richard Brook. Just have Mrs. Hudson prepare something."

 _"What? Why? For God's sake, what's going on?"_

Mycroft held his breath. "I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen "

He hung up and met with Claire in the living room as she was putting her mittens on. She looked up at him and shrugged. "Everything okay?"

"Perfect. Shall we?"

He held out his hand and she took it. They left her apartment and met with Moriarty as he stood by Mycroft's car. Claire sat in the passenger's seat and Moriarty sat in the back seat. Mycroft didn't have to look in the mirror to see Moriarty's stupid smile. He kept his eyes on the road and drove to Baker street.

When they arrived, Moriarty got out and opened Claire's door for her. She looked up at him as he offered her his hand. Mycroft's blood boiled as she held it and got out.

John came out to greet them and his face was pale. Claire gave him a small hug and he told her to head inside. She hurried in as she heard Mrs Hudson scolding Sherlock from inside.

Moriarty smiled at John and sighed. "It's been too long, Johnny boy."

John said nothing.

Moriarty turned to Mycroft with a grin on his face. He looked at his own hand, the one he used to help Claire out, and gave it a small sniff. "God, she is out of this world..."

Mycroft stood there and gave Moriarty a long stare. "I'm going to enjoy putting a bullet into your head so I can see that smile wipe off your face."

"Not very friendly today, are you? It's a wonder why she chose you over Sherlock. He's sexier than you in many ways."

John spoke up. "Mycroft, let's get inside before you say something that'll get Lestrade killed."

They all went inside and up the stairs. Sherlock was in the flat, sitting in his chair with his hands folded under his chin. He and Moriarty stared at each other as they all came inside. They say down as Mrs. Hudson came up with Claire.

Mrs. Hudson looked as if she'd seen a ghost. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. I'll call when it's done."

She left the room as Claire noticed some of the tension. John had a hard face but Sherlock was calm. He looked at Claire and spoke normally. "Any news on your father?"

"No. Nothing. But.. I'm sure he's alright," she sighed.

John really felt for her. He looked at her in sympathy and felt anger at the supreme irony of it all. Moriarty shook his head. "I'm sure he's going to be fine. Mycroft will do whatever it takes to make that happen."

Claire looked at Mycroft and blushed. He just wanted to get up and rip Moriarty to pieces. Sherlock saw this and couldn't help but feel the same, but for different reasons. They all heard Mrs. Hudson call from below and they awkwardly headed down.

The table was set with several chairs and plates. She served their food as they all sat down. Claire sat in between Mycroft and Moriarty while Sherlock sat in front of him. John sat in front of Claire and kept a solid eye on her. Mrs. Hudson shakingly finished serving Moriarty and dismissed herself.

She had made them all pasta, which Mycroft was not a huge fan of, but ate anyway. They ate in silence until Moriarty spoke up. "Claire? Have you told your mother about your father yet?"

Claire went pale and tried to hide it with a small smile. "I don't think she'd...really be interested in knowing about it."

Mycroft held her hand under the table and John clenched his fists. Moriarty grimaced at that. "Why's that?"

"Well, that's not really any of your business, is it?" John asked as he sipped his cider.

"No, it's alright," Claire said, "I just don't like to talk about my mother, Richard."

He nodded. "I see. I was just wondering, I'm sorry. Mycroft told me everything, anyway."

Everyone was silent as Claire blinked. Mycroft would've given anything to deny it, but if he did, it would make "Richard Brooke" look like the monster that he is and throw everything down the drain. He simply looked down and said nothing.

Claire didn't believe it. "I'm sorry. I've never...told Mycroft anything about her."

Moriarty looked confused and glanced at Mycroft. "But, you said she told you."

John cleared his throat. "This is obviously not something we should be talking about. Can we, please, stop?"

Sherlock, who had been silent, agreed. "Indeed."

"No, no, I get it, but you said you looked her mother up and said-"

Claire kept her eyes on her plate and let go of Mycroft's hand. "Please, let's not talk about it."

"You said she beat her," Moriarty said.

John's chair made a loud screech as he shot up. "Get out."

Moriarty raised his eyebrows. "Sorry? Didn't quite catch that?"

Claire looked at Mycroft who had said nothing the entire time. He looked up at Moriarty.

"I'm not lying. Am I, Myc?"

"Mycroft...this is scaring me. What's going on?"

Mycroft looked at her and almost felt like crying. He never would've dreamed of seeing her this way. She was close to tears and looked frightened just by looking at him. He knew what he had to do.

"Yes," he said, quietly.

John's face fell. "What?"

Sherlock looked at his brother but said nothing. Claire shook her head. "You...no. You looked up my past with my mother?"

Mycroft swallowed. "Yes. It's part of what I do for work. It's...in my nature."

Claire stared at him for a few seconds. Mycroft slowly stood up and held his chin up. Moriarty stood up and looked nervous. "I think I'll just go."

He left the room as John was in shock at what just happened. Claire started crying. Sherlock still kept his eyes on Mycroft as John shook his head. "Claire, none of this-"

"I had every right to do what I did, Dr. Watson. Don't waste your breath."

Claire looked at Mycroft and wiped her eyes. "Mycroft, why didn't you just-"

Mycroft turned to her and frowned. "I looked up as much as I could about you, since I assumed you weren't going to tell me everything I wanted to know. Your mother beat you as a child yet you waited for your father to notice for something to be done about it. You also knew she was sleeping with another man while he was married to her but did nothing to save yourself and him the pain."

Deduction. That's all it was. He never looked up anything on her. Sherlock knew it. He knew what his brother was doing and was a bit impressed. John stood there with his jaw hanging open.

Claire got up and nodded. "I can see you know me more than I thought and if you were only born with a mouth and a heart, you'd know how much I suffered. You selfish, cold prick."

Moriarty's voice filled his head through the earpiece. "Ooh. Are you going to take that, Ice Man?"

"You could've saved your father from the pain but you didn't. So, tell me, my dear, who's the selfish one in this room?"

"Come on, you can do better," Moriarty teased.

"Mycroft!" John gasped.

"You don't know what I went through! You don't have a-"

Mycroft slapped her across the face and she gave a small whimper. He looked at her with a cold face and said, "That was the surprise. Enjoy."

She gave a sob and grabbed her glass. She splashed the rest of her cider into his face and threw the glass on the floor. She hurried out and they all heard the door slam. Mycroft wiped his face and John lost his mind.

"What have you done?!"

Sherlock spoke up. "He did what needed to be done, John."

"Come outside, Mycroft. We have a lot to discuss.," Moriarty commanded.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: _Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I know some people have liked that I've kept my chapters pretty short, and I know the last one I posted was like...almost 3,000 words, so I apologize if that kinda threw some people off. I couldn't find a good place to stop so I apologize again._**

 _x_

 _x_

John remained in the room with Sherlock. He was in hysterics, but Sherlock was calm as he drank his cider. John sat back down, unsure of what to think or feel. His eyes wandered until they met with Sherlock's. "Still confused, John?"

"He did it...to save her. But, Moriarty knows it too. Won't he-?"

"This whole thing has been a game. Moriarty has been poking at Mycroft for days and wants to keep it going until he can see how far Mycroft will go. This was the borderline, and he crossed it. Simple as that. However, Moriarty wasn't prepared for Mycroft to strike back and defy him."

John blinked. "Will he...what about Lestrade?"

Sherlock shrugged. "One can only guess. All we can do is wait for the unknown."

"Wait? We don't have time to wait! How can we be sure that-"

"That's the point, John. None of us have been sure of anything this entire time. It's only logical that the result of it all is the exact same."

Mycroft left the flat with his heart heavy but his head held high. He recalled the alley he met with Moriarty before and entered it. His hand stung a bit but he clenched it and continued into the dark alley. Several cars and cabs drove by, not having a clue as to what was going on. No clue as to the maniac that roamed their city.

With his thoughts roaming, he didn't hear the figure walking behind him. A hand slapped over his mouth and a gun pressed against his head. He struggled, but it did no good.

"You might think you've saved her, but you are completely out of your mind," Moriarty said as he stepped up to Mycroft.

Moriarty adjusted his suit jacket and sighed. "You ruined this whole game for me. Now, you can come with me and watch me kill everyone you love."

Mycroft kept struggling against the goon holding him, but he deduced that they were much taller and bigger than he was. Moriarty couldn't help but giggle as he watched Mycroft try to fight back.

"You know, I never thought you really _loved_ anyone. But, as Magnussen himself said, everyone has their pressure points. Get him in the car, Sebastian."

They all got into a black van as Mycroft looked up at 221B. At the window above the door was John. He looked down at them and quickly moved away from the window. Sherlock stared at himself in the mirror as he put his coat on.

"Sherlock, he's getting into a van with Moriarty!"

Sherlock nodded.

John grimaced. "Well, you can sit here with your deductions. I'm going after them with the police."

Sherlock watched John head to the door and grabbed his arm. "Don't be stupid, John. No police can be involved. The worst Moriarty can do is kill Lestrade"

Scoffing, John frowned at him and shook his head. "The worst? He could kill Claire too!"

Sherlock put his scarf on and gave John a sharp look. "Then, we better hurry."

He left the room with John following behind. He stopped and went to a drawer, pulling out a gun. Looking up, making Sherlock didn't see, he shoved the gun in his coat and followed after him. They caught a cab and went after Moriarty's van, holding their breaths. Suddenly, there was a huge explosion behind them as two cars exploded by the flat and caused it to catch fire. John couldn't breathe as he looked back in shock.

Inside the van, Sebastian had tied Mycroft's hands behind his back as Moriarty watched. "I didn't mean to leave this world so soon. But, playing dead is so much fun. Sherlock seemed to think so too. We both broke our word that day. Funny, isn't it?"

Sebastian sat Mycroft down as Moriarty leaned his face towards his. His hand gently traced his jawline, but Mycroft didn't even flinch. Moriarty pressed his cheek against Mycroft's and deeply inhaled. "You're not at all frightened of me."

"I've merely learned to cope with the insanity in all of us," Mycroft said, calmly.

Moriarty laughed. "I'm not insane. I'm perfectly sound and peachy-keen!"

Moriarty's arm went behind Mycroft's head, allowing his hand to hold onto his forehead. This forced him to lean his head back a bit as Moriarty looked down at him. His eyes stared at his lips and he hummed. "Seems as though you've had practice, Mr. Holmes."

"No, I just know what this is," Mycroft spat.

"And, what is this?"

"It's all just a game to you."

Moriarty slowly leaned in towards Mycroft's mouth before the van stopped. Sebastian stood up and opened the back of the van, allowing Mycroft a breath of relief. Sebastian dragged him out of the van and Mycroft felt his heart stop as he gazed at Claire's apartment. Moriarty got out as well with a handgun in his hand.

His hand grabbed Mycroft's chin as he spoke softly. "Will you be a good boy and stay quiet or will we have to do something about that?"

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and spat in Moriarty's face. "You stay away from her, you bloody bast-"

Moriarty turned away and wiped his face. Sebastian dragged Mycroft back into the van as Moriarty approached the apartment. He took out a small square gadget and placed it on the doorknob. Several gears worked through it, quietly, and the knob fell off. Sebastian returned with Mycroft as he held against his head and had a large strip of tape over his mouth. They all entered the house as Mycroft breathed heavily with each step they took.

"She sleeps on the couch, boss," Sebastian whispered.

They all looked at the couch as Moriarty approached it and yanked the blanket off. Mycroft shut his eyes, ready to hear the bullet fire, but nothing came. Moriarty stood and rolled his eyes when the couch was empty.

"I'll search the apartment and bring her down here," Sebastian said.

Moriarty ripped the tape off of Mycroft's mouth and said, "I've got a better idea."

He fired his gun at Mycroft, grazing his left arm and causing him to cry out in agony. The tape was put back as they all listened for any kind of sound or movement. Mycroft hung his head and Moriarty narrowed his eyes. "Where is she?!"

Sebastian shoved Mycroft onto the couch as he rushed to search the apartment. Moriarty yanked Mycroft to his feet and slammed him against the wall onto his stomach. He pressed his handgun against the back of Mycroft's head and started yelling. "Where is she?! You think I'm messing around? Tell me where she is!"

Mycroft's arm was in so much pain and he shut his eyes to try. Moriarty twisted Mycroft's injured arm and he gave a muffled cry. He did it again and again as Mycroft felt the pain burning at his flesh.

"Seb, get her down here!" Moriarty yelled.

"She's not here, boss!"

Moriarty yanked Mycroft from the wall and onto the couch. He got ontop of him and roughly grabbed his face. "I'm gonna make her suffer when I get my hands on her, so you better tell me where the _hell_ she is!"

He ripped the tape off again as Mycroft gasped for air. "I don't know where...she is, I swear!"

"Liar!" Moriarty yelled into Mycroft's face.

A gunshot was heard and a thud from upstairs. Moriarty quickly got up and his eyes wandered. "Seb? Was that you?"

"Oh, it was him, alright. Though, perhaps, not in the way you might have hoped," Sherlock smirked as he stepped into the living room.


	11. Chapter 11

Moriarty arose from the couch and smiled wide. "I said I'd burn the heart out of you, Sherlock."

Sherlock just stared. "You did."

"Here's my chance to do so," Moriarty said as he took out a lighter.

He lowered it towards Mycroft's jacket and it slowly caught fire. Sherlock just stood there, however. Suddenly, John ran down the stairs with a gun in his hands. He aimed it at Moriarty as he glanced at Mycroft. His jacket wasn't completely in flames, thankfully.

"Put your hands in the air!" John yelled.

Moriarty aimed his own gun at Mycroft, giving John a threatening glance. "I think it'd be wiser for you to do so, Johnny boy."

John narrowed his eyes and tried to keep his eyes locked on Moriarty. "Put your damn hands up!"

Moriarty laughed. "You want to see a hole in his fore-"

BANG!

Moriarty took the bullet to his arm and yelped in pain. He fell to the floor and dropped the gun as Sherlock wrestled him down. John hurried and removed his coat as Mycroft began groaning in pain. He doused the small flames with his coat until they were gone. Sherlock grunted as he got Moriarty in handcuffs and breathed heavily.

"You alright?" Sherlock asked John as he untied Mycroft.

"Fine," John replied, out of breath.

Sherlock examined him and spotted a bruise on his cheek but nothing more. Sebastian, clearly, didn't go out without a fight. Mycroft groaned and held his arm as John helped him into a comfortable position on the couch.

"How did you do it, Sherlock?" Moriarty asked, as he laid on his stomach.

"You may have had your eyes on us, but you forgot one other person," Sherlock replied.

Moriarty grinned. "Mrs. Hudson.."

"When she set the table, she hurried out. After Mycroft gave Claire the slip, she left the flat, only to slowly lose consciousness. Mrs. Hudson had drugged her beverage and waited to carry her away to safety."

Mycroft winced as John studied his arm. The police arrived soon after and took Moriarty away. Mycroft was taken to the hospital with Sherlock and John by his side.

As Mycroft had his arm bandaged, he glanced at Sherlock. "Where is Claire?"

"It's best if you don't know, Mycroft. With Moriarty still breathing, he's bound to have his people looking for her," Sherlock replied.

"Besides, it's Lestrade we should be worried about. He's still missing and I don't think Moriarty will be telling us where he is anytime soon," John commented.

He folded his arms as Sherlock tried to think. Mycroft only suffered a few minor burns but nothing too serious. When his arm was bandaged, he stood up and asked Sherlock for his cellphone.

"The sooner we find the DI, the sooner this mess gets straightened out," he said when Sherlock hesitated.

"We've got nothing. The only way you'll get Moriarty to talk is with a good bargain, and we don't exactly have anything to offer him. What would you suggest, brother dear?"

Mycroft gave him a look. "I can bend the rules of interrogation in ways that get me what I want, Sherlock. Let me handle Moriarty."

John cleared his throat. "I hope that's better than how you handled him this evening."

Mycroft frowned. "Indeed. Sherlock, your phone. Now."

Sherlock looked at his brother for a moment. "You're letting your feelings get in the way once again."

He took out his phone and gave it to Mycroft. John raised his eyebrows in surprise as Mycroft left the room to make a call. He stepped closer to Sherlock and shook his head.

"Lestrade could be dead for all we know. If we focus on Moriarty we won't ever find him," John whispered.

"Moriarty has always been targeting me, but my brother as well. He'll never tell us where Lestrade is unless we can offer him one thing and that's Mycroft's attention. His full attention."

John glanced at Sherlock when he had stopped talking. Sherlock had gotten an idea and John's eyes widened. "No, no, no. We are _not_ doing that!"

Sherlock walked out of the room with John following behind, protesting. "You hid her just so you can use her at the proper moment? Sherlock, you can do this to her!"

Sherlock stopped suddenly and John almost ran into him. "Mycroft once gave information about me to Moriarty in order to help his own cause. Now it's my turn."

John shook his head. "This isn't information, Sherlock. This is a bloody human being!"

Pausing, Sherlock sighed. "She'll understand."

doing that!"

Sherlock walked out of the room with John following behind, protesting. "You hid her just so you can use her at the proper moment? Sherlock, you can do this to her!"

Sherlock stopped suddenly and John almost ran into him. "Mycroft once gave information about me to Moriarty in order to help his own cause. Now it's my turn."

John shook his head. "This isn't information, Sherlock. This is a bloody human being!"

Pausing, Sherlock sighed. "She'll understand."


	12. Chapter 12

Claire awoke when she heard voices. She kept her eyes close to keep listening, and she realized that it was Sherlock's voice she heard.

"It has to be done," he insisted.

John argued. "She's just a girl, Sherlock. You can't force her to do this."

"I'm not going to force her, I'm-"

"No, you're going to give her reasons, that you think are relevant, to make her do it."

Claire blinked her eyes open and slowly sat up as the arguing stopped. Before her were Sherlock, John, and Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson hugged her tightly as Claire tried to understand what was happening.

"You alright?" John asked.

She rubbed her eyes. "I just...what happened?"

"Long story that we have to explain later. For now, there is a serious task at hand that involves your life and that of this entire nation. For the sake of time, you must act and follow every instruction I give you," Sherlock said in one breath.

Claire blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Sherlock," John began, "This isn't helping."

"Wait, what's going on? Where am I, anyway?"

Mrs. Hudson glanced at Sherlock and urged him to explain. He shut his eyes and gave a long sigh. John folded his arms and waited for Sherlock to begin. Sherlock looked at Claire as she glanced at him, curiously. "Richard Brooke is not the man you think he is. His real name is James Moriarty and he's one of the most wanted men in this nation. He kidnapped your father to get to you, to get to Mycroft, to get to me. Anymore questions?"

She covered her mouth with both hands. Shaking her head, John put a hand on her shoulder. He gave Sherlock a sharp look and he shrugged. Claire looked at Sherlock and then at John. "But...how..how do we find him? We have to call the police!"

John nodded. "Moriarty is under police custody, as we speak. They've got him. We just-"

"..need _you_ to help us get him to tell us where Lestrade is," Sherlock broke in.

Mrs. Hudson scoffed and gave him a smack on his arm. John rolled his eyes and Claire grimaced. "Wait...how? What can I do?"

John sighed. "It's nothing. He's out of his mind if he thinks this is a good idea."

Claire wanted to argue, but John gave her a warning look. Mrs. Hudson pleaded to Sherlock with his eyes and he groaned. He threw his hands in the air and walked to the side.

They all, according to Claire, seemed to be in a cabin of some sorts. She was lying on a flat bed that wasn't too comfortable and the room itself wasn't very big. John sighed with relief as Mrs. Hudson did the same. Claire thought for a moment as Mycroft entered her mind. She felt her cheek and it stung a bit. Lowering her eyes, she understood. Sherlock left the room and John remained with Claire. Mrs Hudson followed after Sherlock to try and clam him down, but John wasn't sure what good it would do.

"We're going to try everything we can to find your father. You have my word," John said.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Can I...can I see Mycroft?"

He lowered his eyes. "Well...no. We think it's best if you stay here. Moriarty might be under police custody, but his goons are still out there."

Her eyes watered. "Well, then...my father is just as good as dead. He can't still be alive."

"Wait, wait. No, no. I didn't mean it like that!"

She wiped her eyes and shook her eyes. "I know that's not what you meant, John. I'm sorry. But...what can be done? If this man is as bad as you say he is, then, how can we have any hope in finding my father?"

John didn't know. He looked away and sighed. He truly didn't know. She stood up and hugged herself. "I want to see Mycroft."

"But, Sherlock said-"

" _I_ said I want to see Mycroft! Please, John."

He was taken back by her outburst and raised his eyebrows. He glanced at the door and stood up. "I'll see what I can do. Just...wait here."

She shook her head and left the room. John stood there, dumbstruck. He shrugged and shook his head. He hurried after her as she was already scolding Sherlock. "I just have to see him. Please."

"If you want to get yourself killed, then fine. Otherwise, stay put," he said, sternly.

She narrowed her eyes at him as he walked away with Mrs. Hudson. John stood by her and cleared his throat. "I think that's the best thing to do right now, Claire."

"If you won't let me see him, I'll drive myself," she said.

He raised both eyebrows as she approached the door. John felt an urge to stop her as he glanced to see if Sherlock was watching. He rushed over to Claire and wrapped his arms around her waist. Claire struggled against John and gave a small shriek when he grabbed her.

"It's for your own good, you hear! Stop it!" John yelled.

"Get off me! Get off!"

She grabbed his wrist and squeezed it hard. He grunted and let her go. She grabbed his shirt collar and circled him around and let him fall onto the floor. John grunted and sat up as he tried to steady his blurry vision. Claire grabbed the doorknob and John gasped. "Claire, wait, please. I'll take you."

She froze. "Why the sudden change of mind?"

He slowly got to his feet. "I...I can't let you go on your own."

She smiled and he sighed, shaking his head. They left the cabin and drove her car to the hospital. John knew Sherlock was going to kill him for this, but he wasn't going to let Claire go on her own, and there was no stopping her. They hurried to Mycroft's room and opened the door. A nurse was inside and gasped.

"Visiting hours are over, sir. You'll have to-"

Claire stormed inside and John stood in shock. Mycroft turned his back from where he was sitting. His arm was bandaged and his eyes widened when he saw Claire coming in. The nurse was about to argue, but he stopped her. He slowly got up from where he sat and approached Claire. His eyes noticed the bruise on her cheek and he froze.

She stood a few feet from him and rubbed her arm. "Hi.."

He swallowed. "Hello..."

John stepped inside since neither of them were going to speak first. "Uh, she wanted to see you and I brought her over. You owe me for this, by the way. Sherlock's going to-"

Claire spoke up without turning to look at John. "John, grow a spine."

Mycroft slightly smiled at that as Claire turned to face John. "Also, thank you."

He shrugged and she gave him a hug. John smiled warmly and hugged her back. "I'll just be outside, then."

When he closed the door and took the nurse with him, Claire turned back to Mycroft. She noticed his arm and cringed a bit. "Does it hurt..?"

He glanced at his arm and gave a small graze. "It's nothing major, so you're still stuck with me, I'm afraid."

Claire giggled a bit at that and Mycroft felt warm when he saw her smile. Her cheeks blushed and she ran a hand through her hair. "So, they've caught Moriarty..."

She lowered her eyes. "Yes, but they don't have a lead to where my father is or anything. Another dead end."

"It would seem so."

Claire looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Mycroft lowered his voice and held her hands in his. His eyes looked down at her hands and he spoke carefully. Claire grimaced but listened closely.

"I once had Morairty in my hands and I can do it again," he explained.

A pause. "But, at what cost, Mycroft?"

He frowned a bit and held her hands tightly. "I gave him information on my brother-"

Claire took her hands back and looked up at him in shock. "You wouldn't. You would do it again, Mycroft? So easily?"

"It's the only way to get him to cooperate and do as I say. It worked once and I'm certain it would work again."

She shook her head and stepped away from him. "Things aren't what they once were, Mycroft. This man is a psychopath and he isn't going to play by your rules. If you've used that card against him before, he won't fall for it again."

Mycroft looked irritated, but he knew she was right. He looked out his window, trying to think. Claire stood there, trying to think herself. She lifted her head and had a thought.

"That day...during the shooting. You said it was him.."

Mycroft grimaced. "Yes...why bring that up again?"

Claire began to pace a bit and Mycroft stood, waiting an explanation. "One bullet was fired in 221B. The rest were either shot in the streets or at the cafe window, where I was standing."

"And?"

"When you got there, you knew one had been shot in 221B. But, the shooter stopped for a moment. Then, he continued, but he fired at the cafe where I stood. You saved my life and the shooting of windows stopped. Next, he shot two people. An officer and my father."

Mycroft closed his eyes and recalled everything that had happened. Mind Place. Step inside. Mind Palace. He felt a small sickness in his stomach and his eyes opened. Claire was staring at him, knowing what he knew.

"This wasn't about Sherlock, Mycroft. Moriarty is after you," Claire said.

Mycroft said nothing but Claire continued. "He was just testing you that day. When you saved me from the glass and bullets, that was the confirmation."

He shook his head. "I couldn't let you die, Claire. Besides, you were closer to me than 221B. I just reacted quickly."

"Say that again," she said.

He grimaced. "I just reacted quickly."

"No, the other thing."

"I was closer to you-"

She pointed her finger at him. "Exactly. Sherlock isn't the only person in this world that you love, Mycroft."

"We weren't even together at the time, Claire. I just-"

"All the more reason for him to have the evidence he needed. So, he kidnapped my father. He hurts him, he hurts me...and he hurts you."


	13. Chapter 13

"Sherlock was right and I didn't even see it," Claire mumbled.

Mycroft sighed through his nose as there was a knock on the door. They heard John giving a small protest as the door burst open. Sherlock came inside and John followed behind his big coat.

"Claire, we need to talk," Sherlock said, firmly.

"If it's to save my father, then I'm listening, she replied, folding her arms.

Mycroft glanced at Sherlock with a stern look. "No, I thought you said you would help me keep her out of this."

"Things are changing as we speak, Mycroft, I suggest you shut up and let me speak with her."

John stepped in. "Sherlock, no. For once, I'm with Mycroft on this."

Claire grimaced. "I can my own decisions. Please, tell me what's going on!"

"Moriarty has been targeting my brother, not just me. Mycroft has more influence and more power than myself. One way to get to him is through you, Claire. I have an idea that might get him to tell us where Lestrade is."

"How?"

"You go to meet him. Alone. Give him what he wants in exchange for Lestrade's release."

John shook his head in disagreement. "This is a bad idea."

"Give him what?" Claire asked.

There was a pause as Sherlock recollected his thoughts. "Whatever he wants to know about...me."

Mycroft exploded. "Are you mad? I made that choice before, and I am not letting you do it again! It nearly got you killed, Sherlock!"

"Don't act like it bothers you. You were most likely going to do it behind my back again as it is," Sherlock snapped.

Lowering his eyes, Mycroft sighed. "That's not the point, Sherlock."

"I can't do it, Sherlock. You can't ask me to do so," Claire said, pleading with her eyes.

"Then, we're stuck. We don't have any other _legal_ options. It's this or nothing," Sherlock scolded as he folded his arms.

Claire took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was scared deep down. John didn't want to make her feel worse, so he didn't stare or even look at her. Mycroft put his hands on Claire shoulders as she tensed.

"Fine. I'll do what I have to," she said.

John sighed and turned away as Sherlock nodded. "Very good. We'll have to drive you there. Come. John."

Mycroft held Claire's hand as Sherlock and John left the room. He pulled her into a hug and sighed. "Be careful. Please."

She nodded and pulled away before she could start crying. She left the room and followed Sherlock and John outside. They drove for several minutes, until they reached a facility. All of them walked inside the building and into the basement. The basement was dark and cold. Claire could barely see but the boys led the way. There were several rooms with large glass windows. They stopped at one and saw Moriarty inside.

He was handcuffed to a chair and silent. Claire gulped and Sherlock cleared his throat. "Alright. Just give him what he wants and we can hopefully find Lestrade."

John shook his head. "He's a clever prick, so be careful."

Claire felt a shiver as she opened the door and the boys went out of view. She approached Moriarty and took a seat in the chair before him. His eyes looked into hers and he smiled wide. "Well, hello. You're the last person I'd expect to see here."

She tried to keep a straight face. "I want to know where my father is."

"That's classified. His location is my business. He's alive if it makes you feel better," Moriarty replied.

It did make her feel better. She felt a heavy weight taken off her shoulders and inhaled deeply. "Tell me where he is."

Moriarty chuckled. "Why? Given the circumstances, I don't feel obligated to tell you anything."

"I...I can tell you things about Sherlock."

"What could _you_ tell me?"

"Mycroft's told me some things. Please, I just want my father back. I'll do anything."

"Oh, I'm sure you would, love. But, I can't really trust anyone at the moment, can I?"

"I came here of my accord, Mr. Moriarty. Sherlock and all of them lied to me as well as you. They've kept secrets. So, I came here to get the truth."

"I'm the last person to be asking about the truth, darling. You could point a gun at my head and I wouldn't tell you anything about Daddy Lestrade."

Claire clenched her fists and stood up. She leaned into his face and cupped the side of his face. His mouth widened with a smile. "Oh...you really _are_ desperate. To take this route...how touching.'

She swallowed and leaned in to kiss him. He kissed her back as she wrapped her arms around him. His back was to the door, so Sherlock and John were watching. John nearly gagged and Sherlock's eyebrows raised. Claire kissed him hard until she pulled away.

"Where is he?"

Moriarty gave a small hum. "Keep your eyes on the clock, darling. The fall is coming"

She frowned and kissed him again. This time, she pressed herself against his chest and he enjoyed it. John covered his mouth and looked away. Sherlock, however, kept watching. When she stopped again, she asked the same question.

"Where is my _father_?!"

"Eyes on the clock. You want to try another kiss? Maybe you'll get a different answer."

She narrowed her eyes and slapped him across the face. He laughed aloud and she covered her face with her hands. She ran out of the room and shut the door. Wiping her mouth, she started crying. John held her close and gave Sherlock a glare.

"Happy?"

Sherlock grinned. "Very. We've got what we needed. Quickly."

He walked away as John shushed Claire and helped her calm down. "I've lost him. I'll never see him again!"

John didn't know what to say. Sherlock seemed to have gotten a lead from what happened, but he couldn't be sure what exactly. He just gave Claire another hug and they went after Sherlock to hear his plan. They drove to Baker street and hurried upstairs as Sherlock paced the room. John made Claire some tea as she sat in silence.

"Eyes on the clock...eyes on the clock..." Sherlock repeated.

John rolled his eyes. "How could he give her a riddle, Sherlock? It makes no sense."

"It does. He didn't know I was there, so he gave her a riddle to insult her in his own way. She doesn't know what he means. I was there, so only I can figure it out."

Sherlock acted like he had three cups of strong coffee. John yawned as it was a little bit past midnight. Claire watched Sherlock sat in silence and stared at the clock.

"I'll just leave you to your work, then," Claire said, standing up.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Wait, we might-"

John broke him off. "She's done enough. Come, I'll walk you out."

Claire and John walked downstairs as John took out his wallet. "Here, you should spend the night out of your apartment to be safe."

Her eyes softened. "Oh, no, John. It's fine. I was-"

He handed her his credit card and gave her a look. She smiled and he smiled back. "Give Mycroft my best."

She giggled a bit as she adjusted her coat. "Who says I was going to see Mycroft?"

She left Baker street and drove to the hospital. Moriarty's eyes wouldn't leave her mind as she tried not to think on them. Sighing, she turned on the radio to hear some classical musical. Suddenlty, the music as stopped.

"We interrupt this broadcast to announce that a man has been spotted on Big Ben this evening and has minutes to live!"

Claire grimaced as she herself was driving towards Big Ben, the large clocktower. Her heart stopped as she hit her brakes and parked on the side of the road. Eyes on the clock. Clock.

Quickly, she drove towards Big Ben but the police had closed off the area. She climbed out of her car and ran towards the scene. Yellow tape was kept to prevent people from entering but she sneaked underneath. It was impossible to see who exactly was up there, but there definitely was someone up on the hands of the clock.

She dialed John's number on her phone. "Hello? John? Turn on the news. I think I just found my father."


	14. Chapter 14

**Ellis Jenkins: That line was hard to write, but I think it had to be done *sobs***

 **A/N: On a side note, thanks for those who are still reading this story! You guys are awesome!**

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Greg Lestrade woke up when he heard something he hasn't heard in days: a busy city. His eyes fluttered open as he felt his arms aching.

He felt wind blowing against his face as he realized he must've been on a building roof. His hands were tied above his head and a rag was tied between his teeth. His feet were not touching anything, which made him look down as best as he could.

His eyes widened as he realized he was several hundreds of feet above the ground. Several police cars were below. His head shot up as he realized he was right in front of Big Ben. No, he was on the clock. On one of the hands. The time was 12:14. When the clock passed 12:17 or so, he would slip down to his death.

He screamed as loud as he could. That's all he could do. It was dark, so he wasn't sure if anyone would see him. He remembered all the police cars below, and suspected that someone must've seen him.

Claire stood below as she had finally gotten ahold of Mycroft. "Mycroft!"

"What? What's the matter?"

"Turn on the news! My father is on Big Ben and he's going to drop dead in a few minutes. You need to get a helicopter up there!"

Mycroft felt his heart stop. "Are there police?"

"Yes, but they're not doing anything until they're completely certain. Please, call someone!"

The panic in her voice gave him chills. He took a deep breath and swallowed.

"I'll do what I can, I promise."

Claire felt a sob in her throat as she hung up. She spotted an officer squinting as he looked up at Big Ben. Claire hurried over, desperate.

"Sir! Why aren't there helicopters up there? This man could die!"

The officer sighed. "We can't be sure it's a person up there. We're going to get search lights and a helicopter in a few minutes."

"He doesn't have time! You've got to move quicker!"

Lestrade felt himself slowly slipping across the hand and got an idea. He swung himself a bit as he tried to get his foot onto the hand as well. After several tries, he hugged the hand with his arms and legs and held on to give the police more time.

The hand had reached the number four on the clock and he had to hold on tighter. His breathing was heavy as he tried not to look down.

Mycroft had people on the way. He paced the floor and tried not to let himself panic. John and Sherlock were halfway to Big Ben and held their breaths as they arrived. Claire felt a sense of relief when she checked the time on her phone and noticed Lestrade was still above her head and not on the ground.

Lestrade felt as if angels had started to sing when he heard a helicopter from afar. His eyes opened and he nearly cried from being correct. They were far but on the way. Suddenly, he noticed a red dot on his chest. A light from a sniper. It slowly went away from his chest about four feet and a shot was fired.

He nearly let go but he had been holding on too tightly to do so. He gave a muffled scream and screams were heard below as people panicked. Claire saw several officer start yelling and barking orders.

"Who fired?"

"Was it us?"

"No, sir!"

"Call back-up!"

The helicopter had arrived and Claire tensed. Lestrade flinched as another shot was fired. A man in a vest stepped by the door of the chopper and tried to calm him down.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to catch this rope. Hold on!"

The man tossed the rope over and Lestrade caught it with his bound hands. "Good, very good! Just hang tight, we're going to get you down!"

The other men in the chopper kept busy. One had his own gun as he searched for the sniper.

"Sir, I want you to remain calm and slowly make your way down the hand. We can't get much closer so we need you do move down!"

Lestrade made his way down as he was told. His hands were sweaty as he held the rope. When he was near the edge, he held tightly onto the hand.

"Alright! Now, I need you to hold on and get off the hand. Relax, one of our guys is going to meet you down, just hold on."

He was dead frightened as he replayed what he just heard in his mind. Shaking, he shut his eyes and the man in the vest tried to calm him. "You got family? Girlfriend?"

Lestrade nodded.

"Think about them. You hear me? You can do this!"

Lestrade watched as a man with a wire tied to him was lowered out of the helicopter and hanging in the air. He held out his arms and smiled at Lestrade.

"Just hold on!"

He climbed off the hand and held onto the rope for dear life. Flying through the air, the man on the wire grabbed him and held him close. "I gotcha! I gotcha!"

They were lifted up and Lestrade was untied. He was in tears as he thanked all the men there. Claire covered her mouth with both hands as the chopper came down and Lestrade was handed to the paramedics. She ran over and hugged him tightly.

He held her close. "I've got you. I'm never letting you go!"

Sherlock and John watched from afar and exchanged a glance. John let out a huge sigh of relief and knelt down, making a prayer. Sherlock smiled as he took out his cell phone and texted Mycroft.

 _Well done, brother._

Mycroft already saw what he needed when the news announced it on the TV. His eyes closed and ran a hand through his hair. One of his men got the sniper and brought him in. Claire and Lestrade were taken to the hospital. She stayed by his side the whole night.

When she woke up the next morning, she was sitting in her chair by her father's bed. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes as the door to the room opened. Mycroft stepped inside, back to normal wearing a suit and looking sharp. Claire rushed over and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you...thank you.." she kept whispering.

"He hasn't woken yet?"

Claire shook her head. "No. He's exhausted. I just wanted to spend the night here. Just in case in he woke up. I think I'll just let him rest."

Mycroft held her hand. "Are you hungry?"

She was. She couldn't remember when's the last time she had eaten. Nodding, he smiled and led her out of the room. They drove to a restaurant a few blocks down. It was a rather fancy place. Claire and Mycroft sat down and ordered. She was silent and Mycroft noticed. He deducted she was still in shock. He reached his hand over the table and held hers. She gave him a small smile.

"Can we go someplace alone after this?"

He side-smiled. "I know a place."

As they ate, Mycroft noticed she had barely touched her food. He didn't bring it up but he did see that she seemed a little too distressed. The girl had nearly lost her father, but he had been rescued. She looked ill. Pale and silent. When she realized he had finished and she hadn't even touched her food, she apologized several times. He stood up and put his coat around her to calm her down.

"It's alright. We're just going to leave. Come along."

They left the restaurant and drove to a small park. He led her to a bench and they sat down. It was rather cold out, so there were no noisy children around. He put his arm around her as she kept her eyes lowered. His head leaned against hers and she smiled a bit. She looked up at him and stared at his lips. Slowly, he brought them to hers and she leaned onto him. His arms wrapped around her as he kissed her back.

They stopped when they heard a loud buzzing. Mycroft checked his phone as someone was calling him. "I'm sorry. I have to take this."

Claire pulled away as he stood up and answered the phone. "Hello? No, I'm not busy. What is it?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled. The sky was cloudy and it was getting colder. She adjusted her coat and watched as small puffs of white escaped from her mouth. Mycroft came back with a pale face. "I have to go. It's work related."

"What's wrong?"

He blinked as she stood up. "It's...Moriarty."

Claire froze. "What happened?"

"Apparently, he's disappeared since last night, but we think we might have found him."

"Where? What's happened to him?"

Mycroft inhaled deeply. "He's..dead."


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock watched Lestrade and Claire being taken to the hospital as John had gotten on his knees and tried to calm down. He slowly got to his feet and sighed with relief for the hundredth time.

"Can't believe he made it out..." John gasped.

Sherlock walked back to the cab and John followed. He wanted to see how Claire and Lestrade were doing, but he felt they needed time alone. He sat in the cab as Sherlock stared at his phone during the drive. He wondered how Mycroft was feeling. Had he heard the news? When they arrived at Baker street, John got out of the cab, but Sherlock did not.

"Going somewhere?" John asked.

"Yes. Alone."

The cab drove off as John stood there confused. He just shook his head and thought he was going to see Mycroft. John went inside and threw himself on his bed, relaxed and calm for once. Sherlock, on the other hand, had business. He was going to meet with Moriarty. Adjusting his coat, he stepped into the basement and down to meet the psychopath. Moriarty was in the same position as before. Handcuffed to a chair.

Mycroft was there as well. The Holmes boys sat across from Moriarty as he grinned at them both. Sherlock kept his eyes narrowed as Mycroft cleared his throat.

"James Moriarty, Greg Lestrade has been rescued and two of your snipers are in our custody. It's only a matter of time until we find the rest of your goons as well. Now, in terms of the British Security-"

"How's Claire doing? Is she alright?" Moriarty asked, suddenly.

Clenching his fists, Mycroft remained calm. "In terms of the British Security-"

"She has a unique taste to her. You should've seen how she threw herself onto me. So desperate. That's my kind of girl. Then again, that's how they all are, aren't they?"

Mycroft felt his heart pumping so much blood throughout his body as Sherlock broke in. "Shut up and leave her out of this."

"Oh, you boys don't know, do you? She visited me and we had a good old time together. If I wasn't handcuffed, I could've had her all to my-"

Mycroft pounced off his chair and grabbed Morairty's shirt collar. Then, he punched him twice. Sherlock sat there and watched. Mycroft sat back down as Morairty spat the blood from his mouth.

"You think lies will spare you time, Moriarty. They won't," Mycroft snapped.

Moriarty was silent the rest of the time as Mycroft spoke. Sherlock also said nothing. When he finished reading Moriarty his rights, he left the room and paused when Sherlock did not follow. "Give me a minute, brother."

Mycroft left, unaware of what Sherlock said to the psychopath. Now, he had received a call that Moriarty had disappeared and was found dead. Shot in the head. Twice. Sherlock sat in silence in the flat. John read the newspaper and nearly dropped his coffee when he read the news of Moriarty.

"He can't be dead. How can they be sure? He's faked it before," John insisted.

Sherlock looked straight ahead. "He's really dead."

John shook his head. "He made us all believe that before. Even _you_ thought so."

"It's true this time, John."

They were interrupted as Mrs. Hudson gasped from downstairs. Rapid footsteps were heard as she scolded and yelled Mycroft Holmes' name several times. He appeared at the doorway with Claire at his side. "Sherlock, what have you done?"

"I did what was necessary. You know that," Sherlock responded as he sipped his own coffee.

Mycroft ignored John as he kept staring at him for an explanation. "I covered you as best as I could for Magnussen. I won't do it again. If you're discovered, you're on your own."

Sherlock scoffed. "I've always been on my own. Don't scold me so, Mycroft. You're secretly proud of me. You knew there was no other way to end this."

John's eyes widened as he began to realize what was going on. Sherlock took out his violin and began to play a small tune. Mycroft turned away but didn't leave. "I am proud."

He held Claire's hand but she pulled away to walk over to Sherlock. She gave him a large hug and John raised his eyebrows. Mycroft stared as she hugged John as well.

"Thank you...for all you've done," she whispered.

"Anytime," John smiled.

They all glanced at Sherlock. His blue eyes matched the smile on his face as he rested his violin back on his shoulder. "It's our pleasure."

Mycroft sat down in a chair as Claire prepared to leave. She leaned down by Mycroft's ear and whispered, "See you later?"

"I'll call you," he whispered back.

She was off and the three men were alone. Mycroft cleared his throat as John got up to go into the kitchen. "Tea, Mycroft?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

John nodded and poured himself a cup as Mycroft stared at Sherlock. "Everything fine?"

"Perfectly so. Why wouldn't it be?"

Lowering his eyes, Mycroft replied, "It seems as though we were in a similar situation to this last year, Sherlock."

"Well, in all technicality, it would seem so. But, I assure you that I am well and-"

"You've killed two people, Sherlock. For God's _sake_ , you think only of yourself. It's not an easy burden to bear. Not just for me, but for John as well. No one knows you better than the two of us," Mycroft said, crossly.

John looked up from the kitchen when he heard Mycroft raise his voice.

Sherlock shrugged and got up. "Wrong. Maybe you should take notes from John."

Mycroft got up and stood in Sherlock's way. "I just want you to know that I meant what I said before. I'll always be there for you."

Sherlock looked at his brother, wanting to believe him. He just gave a nod and walked into the kitchen with John. Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. John didn't look at either of them. He poured the sugar into his tea and stirred it awkwardly. Mycroft wasn't sure of what to say. He stared blankly at the floor until he decided it was best to leave.

John watched as he walked through the door without another word. Sherlock went into the bathroom and John was left alone with his tea. He took a long sip and sighed.

Claire was having her own problems. She arrived at the hospital and almost forgot what room her father was in. Hurrying in, she was shocked to see several doctors around her father's bed. They were trying to help him breathe and relax. One nurse spotted her and walked over to explain.

"It's just a panic attack. It's normal for someone who's undergone.."

Claire wasn't really listening. Greg Lestrade had his eyes wide and his breathing speed was increasing. His hands gripped his blanket and he was going into full panic.


	16. Chapter 16

Greg Lestrade was put asleep after his attack. He had calmed down and his breathing was back to normal, but he fell asleep a few minutes afterwards. Claire stood as she spoke with the doctors as they expressed their concerns and theories.

"We'll never know what torture he went through, but we do know he was most likely deprived of sleep. Whether it was because of fear of being tortured or actually _being_ tortured is uncertain. He needs plenty of rest. The attack didn't hurt him much physically. His broken rib will take time to heal, so he'll be under our care for some time. His writs were sprained as well, and his face was bruised. It'll take some time."

Claire nodded and as she folded her arms. "And...what caused the attack?"

"We won't know until he wakes. It's best for the individual to relax first. We'll need you to be there when he wakes, so we suggest you remain here. Talking about your feelings is crucial, and he'll only do that if someone he knows is there to listen."

"Okay, I'll remain here, then."

She sat by his bed and watched Lestrade as he slept. Taking out her phone, she realized that Mycroft had called her about an hour ago, but left no voicemail or a text message. Sighing, she put her phone back in her pocket. Christmas was right around the corner, and she hoped her father would get well soon. Lowering her eyes, she hugged herself and stood up. It had been a while since she ate, and she was dying of hunger.

With a heavy heart, she turned away and left the room. As she opened the door, she gasped when someone was already standing there. Mycroft Holmes stood there and nearly jumped when she nearly ran into him. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Mycroft! I'm sorry," she apologized.

He shook his head. "How is he?"

She glanced back at Lestrade and gave a deep sigh. "He had a panic attack this morning. I'll have to remain here until he wakes up. How's...Sherlock?"

Mycroft entered the room and swallowed. "I'd rather not discuss it."

Claire nodded as Mycroft stared at Lestrade as he slept. His face was a bit bruised and his lower lip had a small cut. Christmas was coming soon, which made Mycroft sick to his stomach, but he felt awful that Lestrade might have to spend it in the hospital. And, Claire would be by his side, worrying about him and school. Mycroft's mind paused. School. Claire was still in school, which meant she'd be leaving soon.

Mycroft gulped at that. She had come here to visit her father and what had Mycroft done? He put them in grave danger. Nearly got Lestrade killed. It'd be far better if he had never laid eyes on her. She had so much ahead of her, in terms of a career and a life. They hadn't even been able to see each other much because he was working and she was caught in the midst of her father's disappearance.

"Mycroft?"

He blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you alright? You look pale."

"I..nothing. Just remembered that I...I have work. Paperwork to fill about all this mess."

He kissed her forehead and walked across the room towards the door. Claire watched him go and grimaced a bit. When he was gone, she got an idea. She had heard of a library near the cafe on Baker street and thought there might be something she could find that would help her with her father. She was majoring in English and Literature, but she was willing to get some studying on the brain done, if it meant helping Lestrade get better.

Mycroft walked through the hall with his eyes on the floor. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn't the best with expressing what he wanted to say on his feelings. Sighing, he stopped and tried to settle his thoughts. As he turned, he saw Claire heading his way.

"Oh! Mycroft, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just thought...wait, where are you off to?"

"Library. Have to do some quick research. I'll be back soon!"

He thought quickly. "I'll stay here until you return, then."

"But, I thought you had paperwork."

He smirked. "It can wait."

Claire's face lit up and she hrlf both of his hands. "Thank you. Really."

He felt the urge to tell her how he felt, but was distracted when she quickly kissed his lips and ran off. Mycroft smiled a bit and suddenly felt his confidence restored.

Claire did find the library and hunted quickly got books. It wasn't too difficult. When he finished checking out the books, she grabbed them and quickly thanked the librarian. He smiled and gave her a nod. As she rushed out, she bumped into John Watson. He had a cup of coffee in his hands and it nearly spilled.

"Oh! John, hi! Oh my goodness, so sorry!"

He chuckled a bit. "It's fine. What's the rush?"

"I, uh, was just heading back to the hospital. I want to hurry in case my father has woken up.'

John glanced at his watch. "He's been asleep all day?"

Claire lowered her eyed and bit her lip. "Oh, no. He just...he had a panic attack."

Guilt filled John's face as he raised his eyebrows. "Jesus, I'm so sorry.'

He took Claire's books and she thanked him. She tried not to cry as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Doctors said he should be fine if he talks about his...well, what's bothering him."

John nodded as they walked to her car. He placed the books inside and closed the door. "Well, I'll see if maybe I can come by the hospital and see if I can help."

"Oh, that'd be great. Thank you. I should head back, though. Mycroft is probably wondering where I am. Thanks again, John."

As she started the car, John got a though . "So, will he be well enough to be let out by Christmas?"

Claire sighed and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "I can't say for sure. I'm hoping he will, why?"

"Sherlock and I are hoping to have a get-together at the flat. You know, for the holidays and maybe to celebrate Greg feeling better."

"That sounds brilliant. I'll have to keep you updated, then. It'll be nice to have a small get-together before break ends for me."

John suddenly remembered school and gave a long 'oh'. He told her to keep him updated and wished her and her father well. As she drove off, John gave her a wave and immediately paused when he thought of one person: Mycroft.

Mycroft stared at Lestrade as he noticed him stir in the bed. His eyes fluttered open and he raised his eyebrows. Greg's eyes opened and he groaned a bit. Sitting up, he looked around. Sighing, he rested his head back on the pillow. "Have I been out long?"

"Depends on what you consider long. The doctors put you to sleep to calm your nerves. Seems you're still a bit tense."

Greg shrugged. "Better to be tense than dead."

Mycroft side-smiled. "Amusing. Claire will be back soon. She'll be happy to know you're awake."

"I must've worried her to death. Me and my bloody self."

Lowering his eyes, Mycroft stared at the floor. His eyes wandered a bit before he glanced at Lestrade once again. "There's something I wanted to...discuss with you. About Claire."

"I'm listening," Lestrade replied.

Swallowing, Mycroft played with his fingers before speaking again. "I know she has to return to school soon. Once winter is over, she'll be leaving. I might not see her again for...several months. And, ever since I've known her, I've caused her so much...trouble. I can't bear to accept that it was by my interest in her that you were nearly killed. If I had remembered my duty to the British government, none of this would've happened."

Greg listened to this and nodded. Mycroft bit his lip as he sat up in bed as best as he could, and tried to give the best advice he could give. "I appreciate that you...want to respect my daughter's wishes to return to school. It's important to her and myself as well. But, I doubt she regrets meeting you. I think this is something you should discuss with _her,_ although I appreciate that you wanted to speak with me about it."

"I had a feeling you'd say that. I just don't know how to bring myself to say it."

"Well, you are a bit older than she is. I'm sure you can handle it."

Mycroft smiled at that and gave a nod. He gave a deep exhale and they both looked up as Claire entered the room with a gasp. "Dad, you're awake!"

She hurried over and hugged Lestrade tightly. Mycroft stood up and adjusted his jacket. Lestrade held his daughter close and felt like crying. He glanced at Mycroft and pulled away from Claire. "I think we both know who to thank for my being here, love."

Lestrade gave Mycroft a motion with his eyes for Mycroft to seize this moment. Mycroft gulped as Claire looked up at him the way she had never looked at anyone. Her eyes were soft and her lips formed a smile. It was as though she were looking up at a superhero. Her superhero. He held out his hand to her and she took it gently. He pulled her into a hug and she held him tightly. Lestrade awaited some kind of "Let's talk outside" or "I have something to tell you", but it never came. He sighed and Mycroft sighed as well.

And, he was silent for several weeks. He didn't bring up what he wanted to say. Christmas had come around and Lestrade was not completely well, but he was released from the hospital. He was in a wheelchair, but he arrived to Baker street with a smile.

Mrs. Hudson had prepared tea and whiskey for everyone. For dinner, she planned on making her special beef stew with mashed potatoes. Conversation was lively in the flat as John and Claire talked together. Sherlock and Mycroft sat together as Sherlock constantly teased his brother.

"It's a surprise to see you here, Mycroft. I thought you hated Christmas dinners and only showed up to those with family."

Mycroft sighed. "I did arrive for family, Sherlock. I brought Claire, didn't I?'

The brothers just smirked at each other as Lestrade laughed aloud with John. Claire had turned on the television to see the news on the weather. It was snowing a bit hard outside and she hoped they wouldn't inconvenience Mrs. Hudson and have to spend the night at Baker street. Mrs. Hudson sat on the couch by John and joined the conversation with him and Lestrade.

Claire stared at the TV as the weather didn't seem to be letting up. Mycroft left Sherlock's smart remarks and sat by her. "I don't think the snow will be stopping anytime soon."

Sherlock called out from the kitchen. "It won't!"

Rolling his eyes, Mycroft ignored his brother. Claire smiled and held his hand. "Let's try to get along. I know you don't like Christmas, but just try to."

Lestrade eyed Mycroft and raised an eyebrow at him. Mycroft felt the urge to say what he should've said weeks ago. His hands started to sweat and he bit his lip. Claire stared at the TV as he tried to regain himself. He spotted a bruise on her face. Memories were brought back to when he struck her in the face all those weeks ago. He looked away in guilt and swallowed. Moriarty's teasing smile entered his mind and he remembered he last time he saw him. How he said that Claire had thrown herself to him. Was it true?

Claire looked at Mycroft and gulped. "Mycroft, there's something...I need to tell you."

His eyes wandered until they found hers. "Alright. I had something I wanted to say, as well."

Claire felt her mind wander as she prepared to tell Mycroft about that night with Moriarty. He didn't even know of it, but she felt he should know. This was the best way to do it. To tell him herself. Mycroft prepared to hear her speak and say that she was returning to school and that it would be best for them to move on. He felt as if he was going to explode as she had regret filling every part of her face.

"You know that I'll be returning to school soon and I didn't want to leave until we settled this..."

Here it comes. Mycroft couldn't bear to hear her say it. His eyes closed as she tried to make out her words and choose them correctly. Sherlock watched from the kitchen and was shocked at what happened next. Mycroft wrapped his arms around Claire and just stopped her from speaking by pushing his lips onto hers. John nearly jumped out of his seat at the sight of them. Mrs. Hudson gasped and Lestrade's jaw dropped. Claire gave a muffled gasp and shoved Mycroft away.

"Mycroft!"

He stared at her, not sure as to what he just did or why he did it. "I..."

"What is the _matter_ with you? You've been acting so odd and you won't even tell me why."

Mycroft reached into his jacket and pulled out a tissue. He wiped his mouth with it. "Was I not good enough for you to go to Moriarty?"

Claire's face lost all of its color. "Sorry, what?"

John clenched his fists. "Mycroft, shut up."

"I did what I thought would get me my father back, Mycroft. How could you even think I would do such a thing?" Claire snapped.

Mycroft's eyebrows raised. "So, it is true?"

She opened her mouth, but stopped. Lestrade wanted to walk over and interfere, but he was in a wheelchair. John glared at Mycroft as Claire spoke up.

"I was trying to get something _done_. Besides, Sherlock and even _you_ allowed me to do so."

Mycroft scoffed. "I didn't think you'd go _that_ far!"

Claire folded her arms and tried to contain her anger. Mycroft just kept looking at her. Mrs. Hudson was shaking a bit as John put a hand on her shoulder.

"Were never going to tell me?"

Claire grimaced and scoffed at that. "I was just about to tell you until you pounced on me like that! Do you ever just listen?"

Mycroft stood with a dumb look on his face. His mouth hung a bit open as everyone stared at him. His eyes lowered and he hung his head. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. John glanced at Sherlock who was watching with a sharp eye.

"Forgive me. I'm sorry," Mycroft said with a bow of his head.

Claire felt so embarrassed as her cheeks burned red. She felt as if someone had ripped her heart out of her. Mycroft approached her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. She didn't look at him, making him feel horrible. He turned to leave until he remembered the weather. He didn't care. He just needed to get out for he could hardly breathe. Grabbing his coat, he walked down the stairs and opened the door to the storm. The snow had to have been a few feet high and he shut his eyes.

Slamming the door, he removed his coat and went into the kitchen downstairs. Sitting in a chair, he felt relieved when he heard talking upstairs once more. Claire sat down as Lestrade made his way over to her in his wheelchair. "Darling, it's okay."

She just nodded and stared at her teacup. He patted her arm and gave her a small smile. Downstairs, Mycroft cursed himself and slammed his fist on the table. Now, he had definitely lost her forever because of his arrogance.


	17. Chapter 17

It was getting late. The weather wasn't holding up, so they all had to spend the night at the flat. Mrs. Hudson gladly showed Claire and Lestrade to their rooms. As they walked downstairs, they spotted Mycroft in the kitchen. He had fallen asleep, resting his head on his arms. Lestrade slowly sat onto his wheelchair as he made it down the last step of the stairs. He felt it necessary to his get his legs walking, despite the doctor's disapproval.

Mrs. Hudson was about to tap Mycroft on the shoulder, but Claire stopped her. "Give us a minute, please?"

Lestrade looked up at her, raising his eyebrows. "You sure you'll be alright?"

She nodded and the two left them alone. Claire walked over and tapped Mycroft's shoulder. He sat up with a gasp as he rubbed his eyes. Claire sat down beside him and raised an eyebrow as he yawned. "Good God, I didn't mean to fall- oh."

"I think it's about time we had a talk, Mycroft," Claire said.

"What time is it?" he asked, glancing at his watch.

It was nearly midnight.

"What I did with Moriarty was...probably the biggest mistake I ever made. I should've told you sooner, and I'm...I'm sorry. I was desperate, but it doesn't excuse anything."

Mycroft blinked and cleared his throat. "I...would also like to apologize for not...trusting you. It was stupid for me to accuse you so easily. I just felt so...angry. Sometimes, I let my feelings get carried away and I just rush into them."

Claire looked down at the table and sighed. "Mycroft, I'll be returning to school soon. In a few days, as a matter of fact. I won't be back here for quite some time."

He swallowed at that. He already knew it to be true, but hearing it from _her_ made it more painful. Claire bit her lip and closed her eyes.

"I let my heart get away from my brain and I didn't mean to hurt you in anyway," she mumbled.

Her hand reached for his and he looked onto her eyes. He didn't want it to end. Never. Before either of them could speak, Lestrade came in with his wheelchair.

"Well, it's about time," he scoffed.

Claire smiled, humorously. "Sorry, we were-"

"It's getting late. You should be getting into bed. Both of you. Seems we're all spending the night here," Lestrade explained to Mycroft.

Mycroft grimaced. "Oh. Well, where will we all be sleeping?"

Almost as if on cue, Mrs. Hudson walked in, holding several dirty dishes. Claire hurried to her feet and helped her put them into the sink. She washed them as Mrs. Hudson assigned the three of them bedrooms.

"I only have two extra rooms upstairs. So, Claire you'll be sharing with Mycroft?"

Claire nearly dropped a glass mug. She glanced at them and gulped. "Oh, no, no. I'll be staying with my father, thank you."

Mycroft pursed his lips but quietly nodded as Claire turned around to continue washing the dishes. Lestrade gave a nod and told Claire to hurry to bed as soon as she finished. Mrs. Hudson pushed him across the room in his wheelchair as he was to take on the bloody stairs again. Mycroft remained seated at the table as he watched Claire. She hummed to herself quietly and he side-smiled.

Standing to his feet, he walked over to her and leaned against the counter. "I didn't tell you. You looked beautiful tonight."

She lowered her eyes and gave a small smile. "Thank you."

There was an awkward silence as Claire turned off the running water. "Mycroft. I hope you didn't take it personal that I-"

He shook his head before she could finish. "No, I understand. You're still upset about earlier. Sharing a room is a bad idea."

Raising an eyebrow, she sighed. "Might I finish?"

"Sorry."

"I was just going to say that...I'm not really one to do such a thing. Call me 'old-fashioned', but I don't want to share or be in a bedroom with a man until..."

She didn't have to finished for Mycroft to understand. He stared at her soapy hands and noticed a stray hair. His hand reached out and tucked it behind her ear with a gentle smile. "I understand. And...I can wait for...something like this. Something of our own."

Claire felt her cheeks burning red as she smiled and looked away to keep washing. He kissed her cheek and left the kitchen. After several minutes, she finished washing and dried her hands. A creak of wood made her jump. Sherlock entered the kitchen, humming a tune.

"Still up?"Claire asked.

"As you can see. How'd the talk go?'

She sighed and side-smiled. "Fine, until we got distracted. But, I know he understand certain things, so there's some hope."

Sherlock smiled. "Don't let him bring you down. You've got a mind of your own. He's not used to people that are like that. Why do you think we're always arguing?"

She giggled at that and he chuckled. In all seriousness, he stared at her and spoke up. "I am sorry. For what happened with Moriarty. I really thought it would work and-"

"Well, this is something you don't see often," Claire smirked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but chuckled again. "Truly. I am sorry."

"It's fine."

They shook hands and she hurried upstairs to get to bed. When she entered her father's bedroom, he was sleeping on the floor. Claire put her hands on her hips and switched the light on. He sat up and squinted at the bright light. "Bloody _hell_."

"Get into the bed. You need more than me."

"No, no, really. I'm alright."

Claire folded her arms and he gave in with a sigh. She helped him climb into bed and he exhaled deeply. With a pillow and her own blanket, she switched the light off and slept on the floor. Laying on the floor wasn't comfortable, but she'd prefer that Lestrade slept on a bed. She thought on what Mycroft had told her before. That he would wait for her. But, why wait? Would he really marry her?

She pondered these thoughts until she fell asleep. Mycroft, however, hardly got any sleep at all that night.

The next morning, the snow had melted a bit, so they were all able to leave after breakfast. Claire and Lestrade drove home and she began to pack her things. She didn't have much to pack, but she wanted to be ready ahead of time. Afterwards, she took Lestrade to the hospital, where he was given crutches. His legs had indeed gotten stronger. He couldn't help but smirk at that and Claire smiled.

Later that night, Lestrade sat with her at the table, drinking tea. "So, you're going through with your old plans?"

She looked at him as she put her book aside. "Well...yes."

"You don't sound so sure about it," he commented.

She sighed. "We talked about...the future. Our future."

Lestrade raised his eyebrows and scooted his chair closer to her. "Yeah?"

"He said he'd wait for me. But, I'm not sure if I could wait. I mean, I am willing, but...It's difficult."

"Don't make the same mistake I made, love. Just wait. He isn't going anywhere."

Claire lowered her eyes as Lestrade cringed at his own mentioning of his ex-wife. "Why did you stay with her? When I told you that she would...you know. You stayed anyway."

Greg ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. "You're not going to believe this, but...it's because we were thinking of you. We knew the effect it would have, so we tried to work it out. It didn't."

Claire rubbed her as she recalled those nights of torment. Her mother would punch her arms and back several times. She would find it hard to sleep because her body ached. Lestrade saw her silently remembering everything and he pulled her into a hug.

"I want you to be happy. No matter what you decide to do."

She cried silently and sniffed. "Thanks, Dad."


	18. Chapter 18

Lestrade had another panic attack. Unlucky for him, he was home alone. He managed to calm himself down, but it took him several minutes. As he gazed at Claire's luggage, he sighed. With his crutches, he went into the kitchen to make himself some tea to calm his nerves. It was nearly 10 AM, and her train would be leaving soon. She had hurried to the store to buy him some groceries since he wouldn't be able to for some time.

He hadn't told anyone, but his legs were bothering him more each day. The doctors figured it was a light sprain in his legs, but it wasn't. Moriarty's goons had a thing for electricity, so they zapped his legs several times. They were bruised, so that threw the doctors off. They had in fact healed, but not completely. He sat down with a grunt and looked up when the front door gave a knock.

"Blast it all..." he muttered.

Grabbing his crutches, he walked over to the door and opened it. Mycroft had knocked. Lestrade raised his eyebrows. "Oh, hello."

"I've called her twice and she hasn't answered. What's happened?"

Lestrade grimaced. "She said she was out buying groceries."

"Did she take her luggage?"

Lestrade blinked. "No, it's upstairs. Why?"

Mycroft's eyes widened and he slowly backed away. Lestrade had a feeling he knew what Mycroft was thinking, but wasn't too sure. Mycroft thanked him and hurried off to his car and drove away. He drove to the nearest grocery store, but saw no sign of Claire's car. He tried calling her, but she didn't pick up. Baker street was several blocks from the train station. He drove there and spotted her leaving the flat.

She was with John. He watched her open her car door and Mycroft parked right behind her. They both glanced at him in surprise as he rushed over to her.

"You're making a mistake!"

Claire blinked. "What?"

Mycroft, out of breath, walked up to her. "You can't...you mustn't."

John grimaced. "Mustn't what?"

"You can't stay here. You have to go."

Claire stared at him in disbelief. "Mycroft.."

"It's not an easy thing for me to say, but I don't want you to stay. I mean, I do, but you have to finish what you started and besides..."

"Mycroft."

"...I said I could wait. But, I know it's a lot to ask so if you find someone else that-"

" _Mycroft_!"

He froze at her raised voice and she shook her head. "Mycroft, I'm not staying. I just wanted to ask John to come and visit my father. For health purposes. I want to make sure he's alright before I leave."

John nodded at that and never had Mycroft Holmes felt more stupid. He had his mouth hanging open and wasn't sure what to say. Standing up straight, he adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. "I...apologies."

John stepped behind Claire and whispered, "I'll just wait in the car."

Claire folded her arms and smiled at the eldest Holmes brother. "Whatever happened to 'caring is not an advantage'? You cared enough to drive all the way here and beg me not to leave."

He frowned a bit. "Don't let your head get too puffed up. I was...just concerned."

She raised an eyebrow. "Concern comes from caring."

Mycroft took both of her hands in his and inhaled. "In all seriousness, I just...I simply want you to know that I only desire your happiness. Whatever and whomever you choose in order to reach that point."

Claire smiled a bit at that as her hand cupped the side of his face. He held it against his face and closed his eyes. Sherlock came out the front door and froze when he saw them. They glanced at him and he pursed his lips. "You still have until later to suck each other's faces."

Mycroft frowned at him and Claire blushed. They all got into her car and drove to Lestrade's apartment. John examined his pulse and asked him several questions. He admitted that he had a panic attack earlier and that made Claire all the more concerned for his health.

John assured her that they would happen, but they'll go away with time. "He just needs rest. I'm only a call away if you need anything."

Lestrade thanked him as he finished his tea. Claire came downstairs with her luggage and Mycroft tensed. He was happy, but he would miss her. She noticed the time and they all drove with her to the station. When they arrived, John hugged her and said his farewell.

"Baker street is always open if you or your father need anything. Remember that."

She smiled. "Thank you, John. For everything."

"I only wish I could do more, but I'll be checking up on Greg when I can."

Lestrade shook his head. "I'm fine. It's just a phase."

Claire gave him a look and John smiled. She turned to Sherlock and they hugged.

"And, I'll check up on Mycroft," he said with a fake sob.

Mycroft looked away, rolling his eyes, as Claire and John gave small laughs. She pulled away from Sherlock and said, "Just try and play nice. That's I'll asking."

Sherlock scoffed. "You ask too much."

She smiled and spoke quietly. "Thank you for helping me get my father back. I'll be eternally grateful to you and John."

"Well, I must say, you were a great client."

He gave her a soft smile and she decided to take it as kindly as possible. It was as kind as he could get. When she turned to Mycroft, they hugged each other and Lestrade side-smiled. Mycroft took in her scent and held her tightly against him. Claire didn't want to cry, but it was difficult to hold it.

"I'll write to you. As often as I can."

Mycroft pulled away and nodded. "I'll await your letters. And know that no matter what happens, my heart is always yours."

He took her hand and placed it against his chest. She looked up at him with her brown eyes. He leaned towards her face and kissed her. Lestrade took a deep breath and wasn't exactly sure what do. John had the same issue, but he looked away to give the two some privacy. He figured it was rude to stare at people when they kissed. Sherlock, however, enjoyed every second of it. He smirked as Mycroft was clearly contradicting everything he had ever told Sherlock as children.

 _Caring is not an advantage. Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side. All lives end. All hearts are broken._

Mycroft kissed Claire like he had never said such things, and that humored Sherlock more than any e-mail he had ever read of John to his girlfriends. When they finished, Claire inhaled deeply and smiled. She grabbed her luggage and looked up at Mycroft again.

"I choose you," she said, firmly.

He stared at her. Then, she glanced at her train and waved them all goodbye. Mycroft felt as if he had just won all the lotteries of the world. His face, however, was calm. Sherlock and John exchanged humored glances as Sherlock patted Mycroft on the back. Lestrade waved at Claire until she boarded.

"Touching, brother. Very touching," Sherlock grinned.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John scolded.

"Well, it's been a long, long month. So, if it's alright with you, I'll be heading home," Lestrade said, as he gripped his crutches.

John nodded. "Right, we'll drive you."

Mycroft remained for a few seconds, standing in the same position as before. A smile spread across his lips and he turned to leave with nothing but pure joy in his heart.

 **X**

 **A/N: Someone asked me what the age gap was between Claire and Mycroft some time ago, and it was revealed she was about 23 in the first chapter. HOWEVER, this was an observation made by JOHN, so it's not exactly her age. I'm not going to reveal it, but John was pretty close. Mark Gatiss (co-creator of the show and actor for Mycroft) has stated that the actors share around the same age as the characters they play, give or take a few years, of course. Benedict is 40, but Sherlock's gotta be 33 or so. Mark Gatiss turned 50 (today, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :D), but Mycroft is (canonically speaking) seven years older than Sherlock. So, Mycroft has to be about early 40's. I wanted him and Claire to have a bit of an age gap, so if that bothers some people, I understand.**

 **As we can see by the show, Mycroft isn't exactly a man that acts his age too often. He tends to have his immature and little boy moments, though he's not as bad as Sherlock lol So, I wanted to use that to where Claire tends to act a little older and responsible for her age.**


	19. Chapter 19

_Several months later..._

Claire stood with her class as they smiled for all the pictures. She adjusted her cap and kept smiling. She spotted John and Sherlock in the audience as they applauded for her. Diploma in hand, she blinked away tears. This was a happy moment. Her graduation. She had made it. Just beyond the field, behind the fence, she spotted a single figure. He held his umbrella as he smiled at her.

She smiled back and gave a small wave. Mycroft nodded and waved back. As the ceremony ended, John and Sherlock walked her over to a limo sent by Mycroft. They climbed in and drove off. John adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. "I thought Mycroft wanted to keep a low profile. Sending a limo isn't exactly a good way to do it."

"Well, that's Mycroft for you," Sherlock said, plainly.

"Where's your dad?" John asked Claire.

"Oh, he said he couldn't make the ceremony, but he managed to get off to be at dinner."

They arrived at a restaurant and got out. Claire removed her cap and gown to reveal a black, lace dress. John helped her out and they approached the restaurant. When they got inside, they spotted Mycroft at a large table. He held out his hand to Claire and she placed hers onto it. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed it softly.

"Congratulations," he said, smiling.

They sat down as Claire felt someone's hands on her shoulders. Lestrade stood behind her and she gasped. He pulled her into a hug and congratulated her. "Oh, God, love. Congratulations."

"I couldn't have done it without your support, Dad," she said, gently.

He kissed her cheek and they sat down to eat. Claire glanced at Mycroft to see how he barely ate. Sherlock noticed it too, and knew something was definitely going on. When they finished, Mycroft took Claire's hand and led her away from the table. Lestrade grimaced but John told him to let them be. Mycroft led Claire to the back door and into a small garden at the back of the restaurant. A large fountain stood in the middle of it as they both sat by it.

"Mycroft...are you alright?"

He hesitated. "Terrified, but fine."

She smiled at that. "You barely ate."

Mycroft slowly sank from his seat and onto his knees. Or, one knee, rather. He took her hand and gulped. "I...am not the best at expressing these things, but bear with me. I wanted to..."

Claire felt a lump forming in her throat.

"...you told me once that..you chose me. I never got a chance to think on it too much. But, now I am. And, I've come to realize that I...I choose you."

"Mycroft..."

"Will you be my wife?"

Claire gasped a bit and put a hand to her mouth. Mycroft reached into his coat and pulled out a small box. Opening it, he revealed a ring. Claire felt tears coming as she yanked him into a hug. He smiled a bit as he hugged her back. She had started crying and he gently shushed her. Mycroft felt a lot better as he exhaled and took in her scent. When they pulled away, he placed the ring on her finger and chuckled a bit as she wiped her eyes.

"I have to tell my father," she said, quietly.

He held her hand as she led him inside. John noticed them first and grimaced when he saw her crying. Sherlock and Lestrade looked up and widened their eyes when they saw Claire's finger. Lestrade stood up with a jump and approached them.

"Oh my God...oh my God..."

He hugged Claire and gasped. She hugged him back and Sherlock raised both eyebrows at Mycroft. Mycroft took a napkin and wiped his forehead, nervously. Sherlock patted him on the back. "Congratulations, brother."

"Don't tease me, Sherlock," Mycroft replied, quietly.

"Indeed, I do not tease you."

They looked at each other and Sherlock rubbed his back. Claire could barely contain herself. The next few days were full of madness. The invitation list was made and the planning had begun. Lestrade was having so many thoughts and questions. Was he going to a grandfather? Where would Claire and Mycroft live? Far? Out of the country?

Claire was on the phone with her friend from college and told her the news.

"It was unexpected. I'm still in shock!"

 _"That's great. You're really lucky. He's got a secure job and seems nice. I wonder if Derek will propose to me soon!"_

Claire smiled. "Maybe he will, Lizzie. You've been together for so long!"

 _"I know. It's crazy. But, I've never gotten a chance to meet Mycroft! We should get together some time."_

"Maybe. He likes to keep a low profile. But, we'll have to see!"

" _I have to get going. But, I'm so happy for you!"_

 _"_ Thanks, Lizzie, it means so much."

She hung up with a smile and put her phone in her back pocket. Running a hand through her hair, she leaned back in her chair. A warm hand on her shoulder made her smile. Mycroft kissed her cheek and sat down beside her. "Tired?"

"A bit. Just finished calling a friend."

He stroked her hand and nodded. "I have to get some paperwork done tonight. I'll call you in the morning."

She gave a yawn. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He gave her a quick kiss and left. She stretched her arms and laid her head down on her desk with a sigh. Closing her eyes, she fell asleep. Her phone buzzed but she didn't hear it as it vibrated on her desk. Mycroft was calling her and she wouldn't know it until it was too late.

 **X**

 **A/N: I'm probably going to end this story here and start a new fic as a sequel to this one, but I'm not entirely sure yet. Most likely not going to happen, so this'll end up being like a 20+ chapter story lol**


	20. Chapter 20

Mycroft called Claire because he himself had gotten a call. A spine tingling call. He didn't recognize the number calling him, and answered.

"Hello?"

" _Hello, Mycroft. How's the diet? I hope you've been consistent."_

Mycroft's blood froze at the voice. "Sherrinford. How did you-"

 _"Oh, don't ask questions. Is that any way to greet your favorite brother? Sherlock's been getting a lot of publicity. I know how much you hated publicity."_

"What do you want?"

 _"I'll be arriving at Baker street tomorrow. I wanted to see how my little brothers were doing. With Sherlock's success as a detective and you're success with the government, I thought I'd visit."_

Mycroft swallowed. "Very well. I'll be sure to inform Sherlock."

 _"Oh, thank you. I look forward to seeing you, brother dear."_

He hung up and Mycroft could finally breathe. His eyes lowered and he clenched his fists. When he tried to call Claire, she didn't answer. Sleeping, he figured. It was rather late. He sighed and tossed his phone into the passenger's seat. Running a hand through his hair, he put his car in drive, and went to Baker street to tell Sherlock the news. Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what to think at the news. He mostly shrugged and plucked his violin.

"Did he ask about your diet?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "That isn't the _point,_ Sherlock. He is _coming_!"

Sherlock pursed his lips. "Doesn't affect me much. Sherrinford always loved me. It's you that needs to be concerned, Mycroft."

"Why do you think I'm pacing the room?" Mycroft snapped as he was indeed pacing.

John folded his arms as he sat in his chair. "What's so bad about your brother?"

"Oh, don't fret. You'll find out tomorrow when he arrives," Sherlock smirked as he played a long note on his violin.

"Does Claire know yet?" John asked.

Mycroft froze and sighed. "I can't hide her from him. Oh, Lord, what have I done?"

John grimaced. "You talk as if he were going to rip her throat out."

"Oh, he probably would if he doesn't like her. The best thing to do is hide our engagement from him. It's the best thing to do. If he doesn't like her, he'll be comforted that I could 'end our relationship'."

Sherlock stood up and placed his violin on his shoulder and started playing a small melody. John stared at Mycroft until he spoke up again. He stared at his umbrella and looked at Sherlock. "I need you to play along with it, Sherlock. Please."

"Consider it done, if you agree to stop offering me cases outside of England."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "I can't promise that, Sherl-"

"Promise."

Sighing, Mycroft shook his head and gave in. "Done."

Sighing, he gave John a nod and left the flat as Sherlock continued playing. He felt his phone buzzing and felt relief when it was Claire. He answered and explained everything that was going to happen. Sherrinford. Everything. Claire decided to play along, but wasn't sure how long they could pull it off. Mycroft would be bringing her along when Sherrinford arrived at Baker street the next day, and he was not looking forward to the visit one bit.

"You mustn't let him control you like this, Mycroft. Don't be afraid."

Mycroft sighed and nodded. "I have to go. I'll be there at 10 tomorrow."

Claire nodded and they hung up. She ran a hand through her hair and removed her engagement ring form her finger. Staring at it, she put it aside on her nightstand by her bed and laid back down. She glanced out the window when she heard small drops of rain. Mycroft climbed into his car and put his chair back a bit to look out at the rain. Small drops fell upon the front windshield and dripped down. Sighing through his nose, he recalled the days when he and Sherlock were younger.

How Sherrinford was hardly there in those memories. He was sent to boarding school at a young age due to small acts of misbehavior. Things never got better when he was a teenager. He often bullied his younger brothers and got into big trouble for it.

Mycroft remember the one incident that caused Sherrinford to always hate him. The day he fell in the public pool and nearly drowned. Mycroft was only eight, and couldn't swim. Sherlock was only a baby at the time, so he didn't remember a thing about it. With a shake of his head, Mycroft ignored the memories and started his car. He gripped the steering wheel and drove off.


	21. Chapter 21

Claire had to head to the community college where she worked the next morning to finish grading a few papers. As she sat at her desk, she scribbled and corrected with classical music playing in the background. She took a small break and called her father, who had been working long the night before.

 _"Hello? Claire?"_

"Hi, Dad. How are things?"

 _"Bloody awful. I'm exhausted. I'll be heading home soon. You seeing the British government today?"_

She side-smiled. "Yes, this morning. He should be here soon. Oh, by the way, I need to tell you something."

 _"What's wrong?"_

"Nothing. It's just that, apparently, there's a third Holmes brother. We're seeing him today."

 _Lestrade paused. "Another one? The world can barely handle two. You nervous?"_

"A bit. Mycroft wants to keep our engagement a secret from him."

 _"What? Why? He's going to find out sooner or later."_

Claire nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "I know, I was thinking the same thing. I don't know. Mycroft knows him more than I do, so I've just decided to respect his wishes."

 _"That's odd. Very odd. Well, let's hope this goes through alright. Still, not sure if I like this idea."_

The door to her room opened and Mycroft came inside. She raised both eyebrow and returned her attention back to the phone. "I have to get going. I'll call you later. Bye."

She hung up and grabbed her satchel that sat on her desk. Mycroft pursed his lips and gave her a nod. "Ready?"

"Are _you_? You're so pale. Are you alright?"

Claire cupped the side of his face as he gave a deep sigh. "Nervous. But it's only for a few days. I'll manage."

She held his hand. "Together."

They left the college and drove to Baker street. It was a cloudy day. The streets weren't as crowded but the cafe was a bit full. They spotted a few tourists as they got out of the car and knocked on the front door of 221B. The door opened and Mrs. Hudson smiled as she greeted them.

"The boys are upstairs. I've set a tea tray for you all."

They thanked her and headed up to the flat where John and Sherlock were waiting. Sherlock was already drinking his tea and John was typing away on his laptop. Mycroft and Claire took a seat on the couch and waited.

"Blogging?" Claire asked John.

"Yep. Been a busy week with that gardener case," John replied as he continued typing.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "The case where the gardener was murdered?"

Sherlock added sugar to his tea and smirked. " _Killed_ _._ "

Claire grimaced. "Wait...I thought he was murdered."

"Nope. No trace of finger prints on the flower pot dropped on his head," Sherlock replied.

Mycroft shrugged. "Easiest thing to avoid in a murder."

Sherlock pursed his lips and gave a slight nod at that. He stirred his tea and stared up at the ceiling as if the answer was written right there. "What sort of person kills someone with a flowerpot?"

"One that might make it seem like it was an accident," Claire shrugged.

Sherlock pointed at her. "Exactly. It _was_ an accident. The wound wasn't bad enough to have been done on purpose."

John stopped typing to look up at the doorway when everyone stopped talking. They had all heard the front door open and close. The stairs gave a loud creak as someone made their way up. A stout but tall man appeared in the doorway with the same color eyes as Sherlock, but the stern look of Mycroft. There were bags under his eyes and His hair was a lighter version of Mycroft's. His skin was very light but he was a bit of an ugly fellow.

He wore a light brown suit and had broad shoulders. "This is the flat of my dearest detective brother?"

Sherlock side-smiled. "Sherrinford, welcome."

The brother shook hands and Sherrinford spotted Mycroft. "Mycroft. The British government blesses us with his presence."

Mycroft stood up and held out his hand to Sherrinford. "It's been a long time. Good to see you, Sherrinford."

Sherrinford Holmes gave Mycroft's almost non-existent belly a pat and laughed. "It's very _easy_ to see _you_ , Myc!"

Claire grimaced as she mouthed 'Myc' and looked at John. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. Sherrinford glanced at Claire and raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you adopted a child, Mycroft."

Claire gave him a look as he began deducting her with a small twitch of his eye. Mycroft cleared his throat. "Sherrinford, this is Claire. She's my-"

"Girlfriend. Just graduated from college, no doubt. With that attitude and obvious short temper, I don't doubt she's at least 10 years younger than you, Mycroft. I suggest you end the relationship now before people find out. Such things don't last long for people in your area of work, especially with such an extreme age gap."

Sherlock saw Claire turn red with anger and embarrassment. He stood up and gave a fake smile. "Sherrinford, you haven't met John Watson. John, Sherrinford."

John quickly got up and shook hands with the eldest Holmes brother. Sherrinford gave him a warm smile. "I read your blog, Dr. Watson. Very interesting and much more interesting than my little brother's."

Sherlock frowned at that. No one insulted his website. No one. Mycroft sat, eagerly waiting for the next few days to be over within the next few seconds.

"So, what's new with you, Sherrinford? It's been years," Sherlock said as he sat back down.

Sherrinford gave a large sigh. "Busy. Very busy with assisting the prime minister and such."

There was silence. John raised his eyebrows. "You work with the prime minister?"

"I do, but mostly the queen require my assistance. So, it's a struggle to work with both. I'm in charge of their appointments and such."

Sherlock wasn't too surprised to hear this. Sherrinford was always one for wanting attention. "And, yourself, Sherlock? Jumping off buildings and chasing consulting criminals?"

John clenched his fists at that and narrowed his eyes. He had sudden flashbacks of Sherlock. Reichenbach. The jump. Sherlock noticed but acted like he didn't.

"Yes, it's been quite the hustle, but it's nothing-"

"Nothing? It's far better than being spoon-fed your success, wouldn't you agree, Mycroft?"

Mycroft blinked. "Sorry?"

"Sherlock's had it rough, but yet still has a sense of dignity to him. Impressive. Unlike _some_ people who have been pampered their whole life."

"I was never pampered, Sherrinford. You think any idiot could run the British government?"

Sherrinford smirked. "Yes. You're running it, aren't you? Who would attach themselves to such a person? So much power in one man, but yet so unworthy of it."

Mycroft said nothing and just looked down. That's all he ever did when he was younger. Look down and just take it in. Sherlock, despite his dislike towards Mycroft, wasn't liking where this conversation was going. John stared at Sherrinford with a small glare as the eldest brother smiled as if this was all a joke.

"Who, indeed."

All the men glanced at Claire as she spoke up with a stern look on her face. Sherrinford raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Mycroft swallowed. "Nothing, she was-"

"I don't know who gave you the authority over your brothers, but you have no right to insult them nor behave in this manner. They may not be paid to kiss the queen's feet every day..."

"Darling, please," Mycroft mumbled, quietly.

"...but they're doing the best with what they've got."

"I can defend myself, please," Mycroft continued.

"And, also, if you seem to be so disapproving of them, why did you come? You're just making things worse by showing up with a piece of coal up your-"

" _Claire, stop it_."

Claire glanced at Mycroft and stopped. He stood up and gave them all a nod of his head. "Apologies. We'll be leaving."

Sherrinford stared at Claire as Mycroft grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room. John side-smiled as he saw how dumbstruck Sherrinford was. Sherlock cleared his throat and picked up the kettle. "Tea?"

X

X

 **A/N: So, I wasn't exactly sure how to describe Sherrinford since his existence in the Sherlock Holmes stories was on and off. And since season 4 of the show isn't out yet, I had to think for myself. I used an app to morph Mark Gatiss and Benedict Cumberbatch's faces together and I decided to use that as a base to describe Sherrinford. Lemme tell you, it wasn't pretty. Sorry for not updating much! I was a little stuck on how to proceed. More to come and thanks for reading! :) btw happy november!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Ellis Jenkins: That's what it was! A theory *facepalm* thanks for that correction. Yeah, Sherrinford is a bit of a...jerk. But, hey, if you like him, I won't judge lol Thanks for reading!**

 **X**

 **X**

 **X**

Mycroft dragged Claire downstairs and walked through the front door before she pulled away. "Mycroft, wait, I didn't-"

He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. "It's not your fault. I just-"

They glanced back at the stairs as John was following behind them. He stood in the doorway out of breath. "Well, that was...entertaining. Why don't we all head back upstairs and handle this like adults?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "I wouldn't hold out too much hope."

"Mycroft," Claire said, firmly, "I think he's right. I think I should go back and apologize. Then, we can just leave."

"Are you sure?"

She gave him a single nod. "Positive. I'll be right back, unless you want to come along?"

He blinked and stood up straight. His hand held hers and he swallowed. "No. I should be the one doing this."

John watched as he led her upstairs and he followed. Sherlock had taken out his violin and Sherrinford was sitting on the couch with his arms folded. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the three of them return. Mycroft was holding Claire's hand tightly that she was positive that the blood had stopped flowing. "I would like to...apologize on behalf of our behavior this afternoon. It was most ungraciously done and I hope you will forgive us, brother."

Sherrinford sat with no sign of emotion on his face. Mycroft gave him a single nod and led Claire out of the building. When they reached his car, he let out a huge sigh.

"Well, Mycroft Holmes, I must say I'm very impressed," Claire smiled.

He shook his head. "Let's never speak of that again. How does dinner sound? I need to take my mind off things."

"Fine. You think Sherlock and John will be alright?"

"Oh, they've dealt with much worse. They'll live," Mycroft replied as he started the car.

Their departure was beneficial for Mycroft, since he had to fill out paperwork. He dropped Claire off at home and told her he'd pick her up later. Claire entered her apartment and tossed her satchel aside as she decided to bake a cake for Lestrade, who would be coming home soon. She wiped her forehead as she moved away from the hot oven after putting the batter inside. She opened her laptop and realized she had never really read John's blog before. Looking it up, she smiled as she read of all their cases.

Several articles were suggested and she read them. One called him 'bachelor John Watson' and she laughed. She looked up as her timer went off and hurried to remove the cake from the oven. "What's a cake without coffee?"

Claire grabbed her keys and hurried to he room to grab her jacket. She spotted her engagement ring on her desk and held in her palm. Smiling, she put it back on her ring finger. She spotted her jacket and put it on as she rushed out of the apartment. She froze when she saw a limo parked at the end of her driveway. A young woman was leaning against it with her hands in her coat pockets. She raised her eyebrows at Claire and opened her mouth to speak. "Claire Lestrade?"

Claire looked around even though the woman was clearly talking to her. "Yes..?"

The woman opened the limo door for her. "I've come on request of Mycroft Holmes. He insisted on picking you up this way."

"Always with the theatrics," Claire sighed as she approached the limo. "You know, he could always call me about these things."

Claire climbed in and the woman did the same. The driver drove off as Claire made sure she had everything she needed in her wallet. The car made a turn into town and parked by an old library that was no longer open. Claire grimaced and glanced at the woman. "Isn't this place closed?"

"He insisted. Said it's urgent. The side door is open."

The woman led Claire inside and motioned for her to keep going down the hall and up the stairs. "First door on your left."

The stairs creaked as she went up, and she almost feared they would fall from beneath her. The place smelled ancient and dusty. The bookshelves were covered with dirt and moss. No doubt from the years of rain and cracks in the ceiling. The door handle was rusty and made a large creak as she turned it to open the door. She stepped in didn't see Mycroft. It was Sherrinford. Claire paused.

"Oh. You."

She closed the door and stepped inside, putting a hand on her waist. "Is this a regular thing with all of you? Normal people just send a text. If that's too much, I can handle a phone call."

Sherrinford adjusted his tie and chuckled. "Well, you're certainly not as stupid as you look."

Claire gave a fake smile. "You're welcome. Good talk."

"I was hoping to speak with you about my brother."

"If this is about Mycroft, you can forget it."

"I'm concerned. He may have had his success handed to him, but he tends to let that get to his head. He's very clever, but he seems to think with his heart more than his head."

Claire shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that, necessarily."

Sherrinford stepped closer to her and stared at her left hand. "He works for the British government and-"

" _Is_."

Sherrinford shut his eyes in annoyance. "He _is_ the British government. Everything he does affects himself, Sherlock, and even myself. I'd hate to see him do something drastic to make him lose everything he's ever worked for."

"That may be true, but you're not concerned for Mycroft's reputation, nor Sherlock's. You're concerned about _yours_."

"Naturally. And, I'm certain that marrying a child, such as yourself, will make my concerns become a reality."

Claire's heart stopped as she clenched her left hand. She turned to leave until he spoke up again. "Show me."

She stood with her back turned to him. "Show you, what? You've already seen it."

Her hand was yanked back and she gave a sharp gasp. Sherrinford held her wrist and stared at the ring on her finger. She held her breath and gritted her teeth. She gave him a sharp kick in his leg and he groaned, releasing her wrist. "You'll regret doing that."

"The only thing I regret is not doing that the second I walked through the bloody door. Good day."

She turned away and left the building through another door so she wouldn't have to get into that limo again. With a large sigh, she called a cab and took it back home so she could get her car and go about her business.


	23. Chapter 23

Mycroft sat at his desk and put his pen down as he stretched his arms. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at a file on his desk. His secretary had told him it was for the police and he had volunteered to drop it off for her. He shut his computer off and grabbed the file. His secretary gave him a small wave as he nodded at her like he usually did when he was heading home.

He drove to the police station and raised his eyebrows when he spotted Greg Lestrade walking out with a few papers in his hands. Mycroft took the file and approached him. Lestrade stopped and gave a wave. "Well, this is a surprise. What's going on?"

Mycroft shook his head. "Evening. I just had to drop this off here."

He showed Lestrade the file and he gave a small 'ah'. "Right. I'll take it off your hands. Bit odd seeing you around here. I usually see Annette."

"Anthea," Mycroft corrected, "I thought it best to bring this myself. I work her a bit too hard."

"Anthea, right. Well, I was going to get a coffee. Care to join? Been meaning to speak with you."

Mycroft hesitated, not just because he despised coffee, but because he wanted to make sure he wouldn't be running late to see Claire. He checked his watch and shrugged.

"Very well. Where to?"

"I know there's a cafe near Baker street, but I prefer this one down by city hall. Just follow me."

Lestrade got into his car and Mycroft did the same. They drove off into the night and met at the cafe. They took seats outside, after they ordered, and Lestrade gave a small exhausted sigh. "Busy day. Sherlock's been helping me loads, especially with that gardener case."

Mycroft just nodded. Lestrade placed his phone on the table and spotted Mycroft's ring. He lowered his eyes and spoke up. "Listen, I heard about your brother. And, I know that you've got your own problems going on with him, but..."

Mycroft saw where this was going. "You'd prefer me to leave her out of it."

Lestrade sighed. "I just...I know what this is. Believe me, I do."

Mycroft grimaced. "I don't understand."

"Look, Claire's been through Hell with me. I'll bet she's already told you about it."

She hadn't.

"I've worked with the police for years. Ever since she was a kid, and I didn't realize the mistake I made by leaving her at home with her mother. Even after I left that woman, Claire may have been older but that didn't make her feel any less lonely."

Lestrade looked away for a moment and Mycroft did the same to make it seem like he wasn't staring.

"After I found out about her mum, I protected her. No. I practically hid her away in that house because I didn't want to see her getting hurt again. I thought I could keep her safe from this bloody world we live in. I was wrong. So wrong. It only made her worse about trusting people. And, now, she's told me about your brother and how you want to hide your marriage from him...no. Don't do what I did."

Mycroft shifted in his seat. "I mean no disrespect towards her. I-"

"It's not that. I just don't wanna see her getting hurt again. I'd leave everyday with a badge and gun, never knowing if I'd be coming home that night. Now, she's got to deal with it all over again. You've got a high position in this country, mate, and trying to hide her away like this isn't going to make her feel any safer. She's got to know she can count on you."

Lestrade's eyes filled with worry as he stared at Mycroft. Mycroft stared at the table as the waitress brought their drinks. He sighed through his nose and nodded.

"I understand."


	24. Chapter 24

Although Lestrade was relieved, he felt a hint of guilt for scolding his soon-to-be son-in-law. He sighed and sipped his coffee as Mycroft sat in silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Mycroft shook his head. "There's no need to apologize. It's alright."

There was a bit of silence until Mycroft spoke up again to change the subject. "How are you feeling, by the way? In terms of your health."

Lestrade gave a shrug. "Sure can't use my wrists the same way. It's a bloody mess, but I manage alright."

"Well, if you ever need anything, you let me know."

"Save it. You'll need it for Claire. She's always getting into trouble, that girl."

Suddenly, Mycroft felt his phone buzz and he saw that it was Sherrinford calling. He held his breath and stood up."Duty calls. Excuse me for a moment."

He put the phone to his ear and cleared his throat. "Hello?"

 _"Mycroft. I think we should talk. Soon. I've been doing some thinking and I feel that I...owe you an apology."_

Mycroft grimaced and removed his phone from his ear to make sure it was Sherrinford that he was talking to. "I...alright. I can't tonight, though. What do you say to tomorrow morning?"

 _"Perfect. What say you to the cafe on Baker street? We can get some tea. I know how much you hate coffee, little brother."_

"Fine. I'll see you there, then. Is 9 am alright?"

 _"Yes. Very good. I'll see you tomorrow, Mycroft."_

Sherrinford hung up first as Mycroft noticed the time. He hurried back to the table with Lestrade and apologized. "I've got to run and pick up Claire. It was a pleasure to speak with you, sir."

Lestrade stood up and shook hands with him. "No, thank _you_ for your time. I know it was out of nowhere. Have a good night."

Mycroft paid the bill, after insisting, and left the restaurant for Claire. She sat in her living room with her arms folded. She wanted to expose Sherrinford and what he did earlier, but she wasn't sure how to break it to Mycroft. He would react hastily and possibly dangerously. When she heard her doorbell, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Mycroft gave her a small smile and she suddenly forgot what she meant to tell him. That smile always drew her in.

"Mycroft...I have to speak with you. It's important."

He narrowed his eyes and his face filled with concern. "What happened?"

She motioned for him to come inside and she closed the door. He faced her and scanned her completely, making sure she was alright.

"It's Sherrinford. He knows that...we're engaged."

Mycroft's blood turned cold as he remembered Sherrinford's call from earlier. Swallowing, he stood up straight. "How can you be sure?"

She folded her arms. "He sent a limo to pick me up, and I thought it was you. I had my ring on at the moment, and...he deduced it well enough."

Exhaling, Mycroft looked away and remembered what Lestrade had told him. He blinked as Claire lowered her eyes in guilt. She opened her mouth to speak but he cupped the side of her face and she stopped. "Don't. I never should've..."

He looked away in immense guilt but continued. "It was wrong of me to try and hide you away like that. I shouldn't be seeking my brother's approval when I'll never have it. Forgive me."

Claire looked up at him as he brought his lips onto hers. She wrapped his arms around his neck and brought herself closer towards him. "What will you do?"

He looked down at her. "Don't worry about me. I'll deal with it."

He hugged her and rested his chin on her head. She closed her eyes as she hugged him back, and they remained that way for several seconds.

"So, how about that dinner?"


	25. Chapter 25

It was a lovely evening. The restaurant wasn't crowded and the food was delicious. Red table cloths, sparkling champagne, and candlelight. Mycroft couldn't have asked for a better night. He had a lot on his mind and this was certainly distracting him.

He and Claire took a walk around the area of the restaurant and he decided to speak with her about a few things that had been on his mind.

"So, would you want to move into my house? After everything, I mean?"

Claire raised her eyebrows. She hasn't given it a thought. "I don't see why not? Will that be alright with you?"

"Perfectly fine. I don't want you to live far from your father."

She side-smiled. "Thanks. But, you're sure it's fine?"

He nodded. "Positive."

They reached a crosswalk and he pressed the button as they waited for it to signal them. "So, did you have a busy day?"

"Nothing to write home about, why?"

She held his hand. "You seem tense. I thought you might've had a long day."

He shook his head. "It was alright. Although, I think my office is getting smaller. I feel so enclosed."

"Do you have windows? Just open a few. That's what my dad does when he needs some air."

They crossed the street as Claire lowered her eyes. She sighed and chose her next words carefully. "Mycroft..."

He glanced down at her. "Yes? What's wrong?"

"Have you thought about..."

She rubbed her stomach a bit and Mycroft swallowed. "Oh. Well...no. But that doesn't mean that I don't want any."

"It's okay. I was only wondering. I mean, I don't want to rush things. But...perhaps one day."

It had gotten cold. Mycroft removed his jacket and placed it over Claire's shoulders. They continued walking until they froze at the sound of fireworks.

Claire grimaced. "Odd."

Mycroft shook his head. "Disrespectful."

They exchanged glances and smiled. He put his arm around her and brought her close to him. She gazed up at the night sky as it filled with bursts of color. His hand touched her cheek as he leaned towards her face.

She closed her eyes and smiled. Suddenly, his phone rang and he scoffed. He saw it was Sherrinford calling and he silenced his phone.

"Sure you don't wanna get that?" Claire asked, as he put his phone away.

"Not important," he replied as he kissed her.

She kissed him back as the fireworks kept blasting in the sky. They kissed on the sidewalk until they heard a car screeching. Mycroft turned and grabbed Claire without another thought. He dragged her down and out of the car's way as she gave a shriek.

Several people ran and screamed as the car ran into a street light. Claire and Mycroft landed on their side as they looked up at the car filling with smoke. Mycroft hurried to his feet and took out his phone.

"Stay here," he told Claire.

She rubbed her sore arm and stood up as Mycroft approached the car with his phone at his ear. Out of the car scrambled a young woman. She had dark brown hair and a black gown. Mycroft helped her stand as she seemed to be unaware of what had just happened.

Claire rushed over as the woman held Mycroft's arm. "Where...? What happened?"

"You've just crashed. Please, calm yourself. It's alright," he told her.

Claire took the woman aside as Mycroft stared at her from head to toe. "Careless driving."

Claire sat the woman down on the edge of the sidewalk and folded her arms, as she turned back to Mycroft. "What?"

"Texting...no, she was on the phone with someone."

"How can you tell?"

He pulled out a cellphone from the driver's seat and showed her the call logs. Claire nodded, impressed. "Are the police coming? Hospital?"

"Police, possibly. Hospital, yes. I imagine they'll be sending Sherlock over."

Claire shrugged. "Maybe not. He's not one to take a car crash case, is he?"

"At this point, he'd take any case. Besides, I personally ordered him to come."

Claire laughed and scoffed. "You ordered him? He's definitely not coming."

The woman was shaking as the ambulance arrived and took her away. She had beautiful pale skin and green eyes. She only had a minor scratch on her cheek but nothing more. Several witnesses were questioned, as Sherlock and John arrived by taxi.

"A car crash, Mycroft? You said it was a murder," Sherlock scoffed as he adjusted his scarf.

John gave Claire a nod. "Hanging out?"

"No, we were actually walking around when the accident happened. Almost ran us over!"

John glanced at Sherlock who was now smirking. "Ah, you think this was something more serious, don't you, Mycroft?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "It had to have been."

Sherlock chuckled. "So overprotective."

John stood, confused. "Sorry, what's going on?"

"She's not in any danger, Mycroft. Loosen your knickers," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

Claire glanced at Mycroft. "Danger? Who said I'm in danger?"

Mycroft shook his head and took Claire's hand. "It's nothing. I was just concerned."

"Concerned?"

"Darling, I work for the government, remember? Anyone in relations to me is at risk."

"Not everyone," Sherlock mumbled.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John scolded.

"It was just...I just can't take any risks."

She nodded. "That's why you asked Sherlock to come."

"I'm flattered," Sherlock commented.

John walked past him and sighed. "We'll be leaving. Evening."

Mycroft shook his head as he watched them leave and Claire smiled. "Should we see if that woman was alright?"

He held her hand. "I'm just glad _my_ woman is alright."

They exchanged smiles and walked back to his car holding hands.


	26. Chapter 26

The woman who survived the car crash was treated for minor cuts on her face but nothing more. Claire and Mycroft made sure she was taken care of as she was treated in the hospital.

They sat in the waiting room as they hears rapid footsteps. Greg Lestrade appeared and Claire stood up as he hurried over and hugged her.

"Bloody hell, are you alright?"

She held him tightly. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. You shouldn't have come. It's late!"

"You were nearly run over. I had to see you. Alright there, Holmes?"

Mycroft gave a nod. "Yes, thank goodness no one was badly injured."

Lestrade pulled away from Claire and gave a sigh. "Who was the driver, anyway?"

"I don't know. She said her name was Marion. She's being bandaged up and will be sent home afterwards," Claire replied.

Mycroft stood up and put his hand on Claire's shoulder. "I think we should go. She'll be alright."

Lestrade nodded. "Right. Just wanted to make sure you were both alright. It's a miracle you weren't killed."

Mycroft and Claire left the hospital as Lestrade remained to handle all the paperwork for the police. They drove to Claire's apartment as she gave a small yawn.

"I'll have Sherlock look into that woman and the crash," Mycroft commented.

Claire shook her head and put a hand on his arm. "Mycroft, it was just an accident. It happens."

He lowered his eyes. "Can't be too careful."

"No, but you can be too worried."

She cupped the side of his face and he suddenly remembered about Sherrinford. "I'm going to speak with Sherrinford tomorrow."

Claire's face went pale. "What for? I thought you said you weren't going to hide our engagement-"

"It's not about that. Well, I mean...he wants to apologize. For everything."

"Really?"

"He called me earlier. He sounded sincere."

Claire sighed and stroked his cheek with her thumb. "Just be careful."

She kissed his cheek and got out of the car. Mycroft watched her go into her apartment and drove home to get a good night's rest. He was going to need it.

The next morning, he arrived at the café on Baker street and gave a sigh as he sat down. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to calm down. He was nervous, naturally, but he tried not to show it.

His fingers tapped on his knee as he felt the minutes going by slowly. His eyes looked down at the table. They looked up when he saw someone approach him. It wasn't Sherrinford.

"Waiting to meet someone? Claire, maybe?" John Watson asked.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Is this sort of thing coincidence or are you always at this café?"

John shrugged. "I come here a few times but I prefer Mrs. Hudson's tea, frankly. This place's tea is a bit strong for my taste."

"Is Sherlock in the flat? What's he doing?"

"For God's sake, I'm not his babysitter. Why don't you just go up and see him yourself?"

Mycroft gave him a look and John shook his head. "Yes, he's up there. Bit bored, as usual."

John noticed Mycroft checking his watch twice within the same minute and wondered what was going on. He folded his arms and decided to sit down in front of him. "So, Claire's coming?"

"No, she's at home. I'm expecting someone less...appealing."

John side-smiled. "Sherrinford?"

"Correct. He's supposed to meet me here but I've yet to see him and I've had no call."

John unzipped his jacket since the café was a little warm and he was getting a bit sweaty. "How's it going? The whole secret engagement?"

Mycroft pursed his lips. "He's found out."

John raised his eyebrows. "What? _Really_?"

"That's why he's asked to meet with me. He claimed he wanted to apologize for...everything."

"Everything?" he asked, confused.

"Well, that's personal business. Rather nor discuss it."

John just nodded and looked at his own watch. "When was he supposed to come? It's nearly 9:30."

"Probably got caught up-"

There was a vibration from Mycroft's phone as it sat on the table. John raised his eyebrows as he saw it was Sherrinford calling. Mycroft picked up the phone and answered it.

"Hello? Sherrinford?"

 _"Mycroft? Are you at the café?"_

"Yes, I've been hear for nearly half an hour. Where are-"

 _"Good. I want you and Sherlock close. I need something from you, Mycroft. I need any and all files on all your staff. Also, I require any files you might have on the royal family. Every dirty secret they've tried to hide."_

John watched as Mycroft narrowed his eyes in total confusion. "What?"

" _You remember where I nearly drowned, Mycroft? That water and those memories still flow and they will never dry up. So, I suggest you bring those files quick before someone else drowns."_

Mycroft's eyes widened and John couldn't help standing up. "What is it?"

"I swear to God, if you lay a finger on her, Sherrinford-"

He had already hung up. Mycroft stood up and John was left in confusion. "For the love of God, Mycroft, what's-"

Mycroft hurried across the room and out of the building with John hustling behind. "Mycroft, what happened?"

"He's taken her. I have to find them!"

John followed him the steps to 221B and he yanked the door opened without even adjusting the handle like he normally did. "Sherrinford? He's taken Claire? But, why?"

Mycroft rushed up the stairs and yelled at the top of his lungs. "Sherlock!"

He found Sherlock wearing goggles and examining drops of blood in the kitchen as he stormed in. "What happened to Claire?"

Mycroft froze. "What?"

John finally caught up and was out of breath. "How'd you-"

"To save us all time, Mycroft would never run that fast unless he was hungry or something happened to Claire that requires my assistance. So, I'll ask again, what happened to her?"

Mycroft stood up straight. "Sherrinford. He's taken her and I can only assume it's at the pool where he nearly drowned."

John grimaced. "A swimming pool? Just like-"

Sherlock removed his goggles. "Moriarty. That swimming pool and that building, for the record, are no longer on the map and I'd be surprised if it still existed."

"It does. It's no longer a public swimming area but the place still exists and so does the pool," Mycroft replied, catching his breath.

John wiped the swear off his forehead. "What is now?"

"A memorial. Apparently, a veteran died there. Drowned. He was paralyzed but he dove in to rescue his child," Sherlock replied as he threw on his coat.

John grimaced. "They still keep the pool clean? For a memorial?"

"He was a pretty wealth fellow. His family pays money to have it cleaned. Daily, even though it's no longer public and no one is allowed in, except the family themselves," Mycroft explained.

"How could he get access to that place?" John asked.

Sherlock stared out the window and smirked. "Sherrinford works for the queen of England. He gets what he wants."

"He asked me for files. Classified files on the royal family," Mycroft told Sherlock.

John's eyes widened. "What? But what would he do with them? Blackmail the family?"

"I can get them, but it's not that simple."

Sherlock faced Mycroft with his usual calm expression. "Did he give you a certain time of when to get them?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No."

"Then, we're not limited in time and have no need to panic. Let's get those files."

"Even I could get them, I can't take them our of the building where they're kept. Let alone the very room!"

Sherlock leaned into Mycroft's face and frowned. "Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?"

Mycroft swallowed. "It's impossible, Sherlock."

John stared at them as he himself was trying to think. "Maybe we can make a negotiation with him?"

Both brothers look at him and Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Nervously, John spoke up. "Well, if he didn't give you a certain amount of time to get the files, and told you where he was, and took Claire, it can only mean that he's trying to do one thing."

Mycroft's face creased with confusion but Sherlock smirked at his blogger and understood. "He's trying to get our attention. This isn't about the files."

"He just wants to watch me dance," Mycroft realized.

"Let's go. I think we want Claire Lestrade back," Sherlock said as he hurried out of the room.

John suddenly realized something and glanced at Mycroft. "Lestrade. Should we let him know?"

"Let him know, what? That his daughter's missing and it's my fault?"

John nodded. "Right. Stupid. Let's move."


	27. Chapter 27

"It's a painful thing for me to do all this. I take no joy in any of it, but I think we both know that's not entirely true," Sherrinford said as he stared out the window of the building.

The swimming pool was right out the door and he could see it from the window. The building where they were was a bit of a small museum. A shrine. It used to be the building for changing and bathrooms. Now, it had photos of the veteran and his family.

There were couches and furniture, making it seem like a small house. No doubt, the family spent holidays here on occasion. Claire sat in a chair a few feet behind where Sherrinford stood. Her hands rested on her lap as she stared at his back.

"It was traumatizing what happened to me that day. Have you ever looked into the eye of death? Where, with one final breath, it could all be over? It's a terrible experience."

"Yes. But, I walked away from it and didn't let myself be consumed by it. That's when the real horror and danger comes in," Claire replied.

Sherrinford gave a small sigh through his nose. The same way Mycroft always did. "You think he's going to come?"

"I know he is."

He chuckled. "He couldn't get ahold of those files. That's suicide. And what person keeps information on themselves in a file? In short, he won't come because those files don't even exist."

"That won't stop him from coming."

"That's the whole idea. I want to show him and anyone who gets in my way that I always get what I want. It's not about the files. It's about watching my brothers dance when I ask them to."

Sherrinford approached her and stared down at her. "We've always played that game. Who can make Sherrinford hate them less? Because I hate them both and they've always known it."

Claire disagreed. "I think you're underestimating them. Seems you always have."

"I think you're giving them too much credit. Any fool can dance, it's basic chemistry, Miss Lestrade. All it takes..."

His thumb gently ran across her lower lip. "...is a little push. Moriarty failed to use what my brothers so clearly had against them. Magnussen came the closest."

Claire's heart stopped. "Moriarty?"

"Magnussen knew what made my brothers go weak. He was the only one who actually put that knowledge into action. John Watson is what makes Sherlock go weak. The only human being who's ever trusted him with his life and called him 'friend'. Moriarty found out too late that you were what made Mycroft go weak. Just find someone or something that your enemy wants to protect from harm and threaten then with it."

"So, what makes you go weak?"

Sherrinford chuckled. "Nothing. I have no pressure point."

"Any fool can dance. You said so yourself. Yours may not be a person, but there must be something. I think it's that day. The day you nearly drowned."

Sherrinford was no longer smiling. Claire stared up at him as she continued. "You hold onto it and it gives you purpose. It's the reason why you're doing all of this. Without it, you have no purpose. No reason to keep going."

"Stop it," Sherrinford said.

"You've allowed it to fuel everything that you do and are and now you've come too far to let it go. And you never will."

He grabbed her throat and she gave a small gasp as she instinctively held onto his arm. "I never will let it go. You said you had a near experience with death, but you've never felt the burning of your lungs and water swallowing you up. So, let me show you."

His hand gripped her throat harder and harder and she felt dizzy. "Are your lungs burning? Can you feel your thoughts buzzing in your mind as you search for a single memory to replay as you live your last moments? A happy memory?"

He released her neck and she fell out of her chair, coughing. "I shouldn't be doing this to you. You're just the bait. Once Mycroft comes, the real show will begin."

They looked up as they heard footsteps. Sherlock and John appeared as Sherrinford took out a handgun from his jacket and aimed it at them. "Right there is far enough. I've only got two shots, and I'd prefer to make them count."

The boys stopped and put their hands in the air. John gulped as Sherlock spoke up first. "You're taking this to far, Sherrinford. Is this really all worth it?"

Sherrinford stepped past Claire as she held onto her sore neck from the floor. "It most certainly is worth it to me. Do you know how hard it is to be the older sibling, Sherlock? Being the example for your precious younger siblings who were born with minds almost as great as yours? To be sent away when you show the slightest hint of abnormal behavior?"

"Well, I've been called a freak by most people, although I don't think that's nearly as similar as to what you've endured," Sherlock shrugged.

"After I nearly died that day, I was never the same and mummy and daddy knew it. Ever since then, I've wanted Mycroft dead. Because he made me what I am. Even after all those people I hired to kill him, they never succeeded. Moriarty got distracted and decided to switch the game up and play with _you,_ instead."

Sherlock and John narrowed their eyes and glanced at each other. John looked back at Sherrinford, squinting his eyes. "You...hired Moriarty to kill Mycroft."

Sherrinford stood by Claire as she also looked up at him in shock. "Well, yes. He came close a few times, but his target always seemed to be Sherlock. Not too surprising. Sherlock's always been the 'less-boring' one of the two of them. When Moriarty was under Mycroft's supervision and arrest, he found Mycroft to be a bit more interesting. That's why he found you so...ordinary."

Sherlock remembered that day. That wretched day. When they stood on the rooftop and all the people he loved were in danger. Lestrade. Mrs. Hudson. John. How Moriarty had put a gun in his mouth and shot himself.

 _Staying alive. It's so boring, isn't it?!...You were the best distraction and now I don't even have you...now I have to go back to playing with the ordinary people...oh well..._

 _Just trying to have some fun...I'm disappointed in you! Ordinary, Sherlock!_

"But, let's not bring up old wounds, eh, Dr. Watson?" Sherrinford asked as he glanced at the doctor.

John narrowed his eyes at him. "If this is between you and us, let her go. You have our attention, just stop this."

"Oh, it is between us, but you can't leave the pressure point of it. Magnussen should've made that clear to you. He almost had you, but Sherlock had to play the hero, didn't he? For his _own_ pressure point," Sherrinford replied as he stared at John.

"So, what now? Are you going to kill us all and dance on our graves?" John asked.

"Well, I was waiting for Mycroft. I suppose-"

They heard a click as Mycroft stood behind Claire and Sherrinford and aimed a gun at him. "Put the gun down, brother, you never really had a good aim, anyway."

Sherrinford chuckled and turned to face Mycroft. "You sit in an office all day, Mycroft. You really think your aim is better?"

"I always win," Mycroft replied with a smirk.

Sherrinford grimaced. "Was this really your grand plan? Just walk in and point a gun at me? I thought you were clever than this, little brothers."

He fired the gun and John gave a loud groan as he fell to the floor and clutched his arm. Claire's eyes widened with horror as Sherlock shouted, "John!"

"John!" Claire cried.

Sherrinford aimed the gun at Sherlock and shook his head. "Stay where you are, Sherlock, or I'll shoot him again. This time, it'll be at his head."

John gave a sharp inhale as his sweater's sleeves began to stain with his blood. Sherlock kept his eyes locked on him as Sherrinford glanced back at Mycroft. "Put the gun down, Mycroft. Now or I'll-"

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to yank him backwards. Mycroft held his gun with both hands now as he tried to get a good aim. Sherrinford grunted as he still held the gun in his hand and accidentally fired it at the ceiling. "Oh, you insolent little brat!"

His hand reached back and grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked. She gave a small shriek as she loosened her grip on him and he pulled her in front of him, against his chest. His arm wrapped around her neck as he aimed the gun at her head. "Drop it, Mycroft. Do it!"

Sherlock had gotten on his knees and removed his scarf as he tied it around John's arm to keep the bleeding to a minimum. John was getting dizzy but he kept a firm grip on Sherlock's arm, breathing heavily. Two goons in masks, one was clearly a woman, appeared and kept watch over Sherlock and John as Sherrinford kept yelling demands Mycroft.

Mycroft put his gun down and held his hands up. "I'll do whatever you want, Sherrinford. Just...please."

"I want that pool dyed with your own blood, Mycroft. Now, take him outside."

Mycroft slowly turned around as one of the goons grabbed his arm and led him outside with Claire and Sherrinford behind him. The sunlight shimmered on the water and Mycroft swallowed as he could still hear Sherrinford's screams.

 _Mycroft! Somebody! HELP!_

The goon stopped Mycroft and yanked off his jacket. Sherrinford looked around and shook his head as he eyed the blue water with a glare. "I really should be thanking you for this. Because of you, I learned to conquer. I conquered that day on my own."

"The only thing you've conquered is foolishness," Claire spat.

He threw her down onto the floor and he pressed his gun behind her neck. Mycroft twitched. "No, stop!"

"After you die, Mycroft, you have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy putting a bullet through this one's head. Likes to run her mouth, doesn't she? Although..."

His hand gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him. "...it is a pity...to waste such a thing."

The goon holding Mycroft yanked his arms behind his back as he tried to run towards Sherrinford. "She's not a _thing_ , you bloody bastard."

"She's not worth as much as that assassin that I hired to run you over. Lovely woman, wasn't she?"

Mycroft remembered the woman they rescued from the so-called accident. He knew it was more than that. Almost as if on cue, the goon holding him removed her mask and revealed the woman from the crash. Claire's eyes widened and she shook her head. "Small world."

Marion (Mycroft and Claire were pretty much certain that that wasn't even her real name) tied Mycroft's hands behind him and walked him over to the edge of the pool. Sherrinford watched with pure satisfaction on his face. Claire felt her chest tightening as she watched in horror. She held her breath as Mycroft stared straight at Sherrinford and saw tears in his eyes.

"Sherrinford..."

There was silence. Time seemed like it had stopped. Sherrinford kept his back turned to Mycroft. Just like h always had. Mycroft shut his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Please...I am so sorry. For everything. I beg of you...don't go down this path," he pleaded, quietly.

Sherrinford folded his arms and started to laugh. Mycroft hung his head in defeat. "I never thought I'd see you begging, little brother. You're weaker than I thought. But, I've had enough of your begging."

He signaled the woman and she removed Mycroft's tie from around his neck. She tied it between his lips, not even fighting back. Sherrinford dragged Claire over to him and rolled his eyes. "How about a little goodbye?"

Claire yanked away from Sherrinford and held Mycroft's face in her hands. Her thumbs wiped his eyes as he rested his head on her chest. "It's alright. It's going to be alright."

She removed the tie from his mouth and kissed him. Sherrinford stared at them and raised an eyebrow. She pulled away and turned to face Sherrinford with a straight face, folding her arms. "I'll take his place. Drown me."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "Wait, what? Are you out of your-"

"This isn't something that's up for negotiation," Sherrinford chuckled.

"I want to take his place. I'm not going to let you kill him."

"That's the whole purpose of this. I'm afraid-"

"You _really_ want to kill him?" Claire asked.

Sherrinford grimaced.

"Then, you kill _me_. Keep him alive, but kill me. It's the right way to do it," Claire said, sternly.

Sherrinford side-smiled. "Daughter of a humble DI and fiance to the British government. Dead. I like where this is going."

Mycroft struggled against his bonds and argued. "Claire, stop it. This is suicide!"

Claire grabbed Sherrinford's wrist (the one holding the gun) and pointed it towards her so the gun was touching her forehead. She walked backwards to the edge of the pool and held back a sob. The female goon retied the tie over Mycroft's mouth as Sherrinford raised an eyebrow of disbelief. "You sure you know what you're doing, Miss Lestrade?"

Claire blinked her eyes dry. "Do it."

Mycroft gave muffled cries until the trigger was pulled. Nothing. Mycroft opened his eyes and saw Claire still standing there. She had a smirk on her face. "You should've brought more bullets, moron."

Sherrinford stared at his gun in disbelief and glared at her. "You clever witch."

Suddenly, several officers poured out from the building and towards the pool. Sherrinford's eyes widened as he saw Greg Lestrade aim his gun at him from afar. They all froze when he fired and Sherrinford felt as if a bus had hit him. He coughed and blood spilled from his mouth. With one final swoop, he swung his gun against Claire's head and caught her in his arms as she fell unconscious.

His feet stumbled to stay up as blood poured from his lips. "If I go...she goes."

They both fell into the pool with Sherrinford holding onto her with whatever strength he had left.


	28. Chapter 28

_Dead...is the new sexy._

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 ** _A/N: FAIR WARNING. There's a scene of lots of blood loss and pretty detailed about it, so you've been warned if that makes your stomach queezy or you're easily triggered. Thanks for reading btw :) (we're almost to 30 chapters! Get your shock blankets lol)_**

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Mycroft gave another muffled scream as an officer hurried over to untie him. Another took down the female goon and arrested her. Lestrade and the others hustled over as Mycroft dove in the water without thinking. Donovan glanced at Lestrade in horror. "Can he even swim?"

"There's no time to wait and see," Lestrade mumbled as he threw off his coat and jumped in as well.

Mycroft swam over, awkwardly, to Sherrinford and yanked him away from Claire, who's body floated off. Sherrinford's mouth opened and a cloud of dark red blood came out. His hands grabbed Mycroft's neck and choked him. He didn't have much strength left, but with the look of murder in his eyes, Mycroft knew he would use every ounce of strength ensure both of their deaths. Lestrade grabbed hold of Claire and lifted her up to the surface with a huge gasp.

"Take her now! Move, move!"

"Sir, should we shoot?" Donovan asked.

"No, you could hit my blasted son-in-law!"

An officer reached over and yanked Claire out of the pool as Lestrade went back down to help Mycroft. Sherrinford kept choking Mycroft and his vision began to blur. How did they come to this? Brother fighting brother. It seemed like just yesterday, they were playing cops and robbers. Sherrinford looked at him with pure hatred until he finally had no strength left. Lestrade gave him a good punch in the nose, allowing Mycroft to swim to the surface with his lungs burning and begging for air. He coughed several times as Lestrade joined him above the water. Another cloud of blood could be seen below them as they swam to the edge of the pool.

They were pulled out as Mycroft rushed to Claire's side as she lay on the ground. Her skin was pale and her mouth was slightly open. Mycroft checked her pulse and panicked when it was slowing down. He wiped his mouth and started to perform CPR on her. Lestrade watched with his fists clenched and his heartbeat increasing in speed.

Mycroft pumped her chest and pressed his mouth onto hers. He did this several times and stopped to see if she was waking up. Nothing. He shook his head and cupped the side of her face. "God...don't do this. Stay with me."

His eyes watered but you couldn't exactly tell since he himself was soaking wet. He opened her mouth once more and pressed his mouth onto hers. Lestrade shut his eyes and turned away. He hung his head and inhaled sharply. Mycroft kept his mouth on Claire's until he felt a cold hand press upon his cheek. His eyes shot open as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed him onto her, kissing him hard. He responded by holding her and rolling her onto her side where he could hold her properly.

Lestrade turned when the officers cheered and his eyes glowed as he saw his daughter awake. Sherlock came out with John clutching his bandaged arm. They smiled as they saw Mycroft and Claire on the ground together.

"I'm feeling a long honeymoon," Mycroft mumbled, exhausted.

Claire rested her head on his chest and nodded. "Please."

"Alright, alright, break it up, you two," Lestrade said as he stood over them.

Claire gasped and hurried up to hug him. He shut his eyes and started to cry as he held her. Mycroft got to his feet as Sherlock and John approached them. Sherlock and Mycroft stared at each other for a moment until Sherlock broke the silence. "You look awful."

Mycroft shrugged. "Well, let's toss you in a bloody pool and see how you look, little brother.

Sherlock sighed and wrapped his arms around Mycroft, embracing him. John's eyes widened, but he let the brothers have their moment. Mycroft hugged Sherlock tightly as John and Claire made eye contact. "By tomorrow, they'll be at each other's throats."

Claire smiled. "I give it an hour."

"Two seconds," John said, entering the bet.

The brothers pulled it away as Mycroft sighed. "So, I'll handle the paperwork."

Sherlock scoffed. "Lestrade will handle it. You take centuries to fill out paperwork. It's a wonder you're still employed."

They kept quarreling as John folded his arms and smiled proudly. Lestrade gave Claire his coat and John was taken inside an ambulance for his arm with Sherlock to supervise. Mycroft shook hands with Lestrade as they all drove to the hospital to make sure John was alright and Claire's head was fine. She and Mycroft held hands the entire time and she grimaced at the red marks on his neck. She gently touched his neck with her hand and he winced.

"Sorry," she said, quietly.

"No...it's fine."

His hand placed hers back on his neck and he closed his eyes at her soft touch. "I am so sorry. For all of this."

She rested her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. I love you."


	29. Chapter 29

_**Several weeks later...**_

"You nervous?" Lestrade asked.

Claire gave a small sigh and held up her chin. "Very."

He put his arm around her. "I know this isn't what you want to hear...but you look so much like your mother."

Claire looked at herself in the mirror. "You're right...it wasn't what I wanted to hear."

She pulled away from him and he felt instant guilt. "Love, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Claire sat in a chair as Lestrade looked down at her from where he stood. He lowered his eyes and knelt down so their eyes could meet. His hand took hold of hers and he but his lip. "You won't always have me. And, I want to know that when my time comes...you'll be taken care of."

"I was always taken care of. Because of you, Dad," she said, giving him a smile.

He pulled her into a hug and smiled. They looked up when they heard music playing and he took a deep breath. "Well, it's time to go."

She nodded and they stood up, as he offered her his arm. Gently, she took it and they walked out of the room together. They found themselves in a long walkway where people stood at both sides of them. Some were crying, but most were smiling. Claire and Lestrade exchanged smiles as they walked down. Sherlock was at the end, wearing a suit and his typical serious stare. He gave Claire a quick wink and she smiled. Several of Claire's schoolmates and dear friends were there too, wearing gowns and teary smiles.

John was in the front row with his hands clasped in front of him. He smiled at her too and she blushed. One face, however, stood out from them all. The one at the end, standing next to Sherlock. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since she walked into his life. Now, he was watching her walk into it and staying there. Forever.

Mycroft held out his hand when they reached the front and Lestrade passed her on. Claire closed her eyes as Lestrade placed a warm kiss on her forehead. He took his seat next to John as she held onto Mycroft's hand. They stood, facing each other, as everything was silent.

She didn't hear much of what the preacher was saying. All she looked at was Mycroft. He did the same. Sherlock side-smiled when he noticed that they didn't hear the preacher ask him to put the ring on her finger. He gave Mycroft a nudge and Mycroft blinked. Sherlock handed him the ring and Mycroft gulped. He placed it on Claire's finger and she did the same to him. They held each other's hands as Mrs. Hudson did her best to hold back a sob. Then, Mycroft's eyes softened as he removed her veil and cupped her face with his hand. He stroked her soft cheek with his thumb.

Before Claire knew it, Mycroft had pulled her into a tender kiss as the room erupted with cheering and crying. Sherlock joined the applause with a side-smile and Mrs. Hudson was crying into John's shoulder. Sherlock gave Mycroft a pat on the back and the brothers bowed their heads to each other. Sherlock took Claire's hand and kissed it. "Mrs. Mycroft Holmes."

She hugged him suddenly and he stiffened. "Thank you for everything..."

His eyes softened and hugged her back. "You're welcome..."

After the ceremony, everyone gathered for dinner in another room. Mycroft and Claire sat together and everyone ate. Sherlock tapped his glass wine and cleared his throat as he stood up. Everyone was silent and Mycroft held his breath.

"I'd like to propose a toast to our groom..."

Mycroft looked down. "Oh, great..."

Claire held his hand under the table and smiled at Sherlock.

"...I love him like a brother..."

The room filled with a few chuckles.

"...and I know that our lovely Claire will love him as he's always deserved to be loved. As a man."

Sherlock gave Claire a nod and she mouth 'thank you'. "To Mycroft."

The crowd raised their glasses and echoed that. "To Mycroft!"

They all drank and Mycroft finally stopped holding his breath. He took Claire's hand and took her out of the room as everyone began to dance. They went outside the building and sat on the edge of a fountain that glimmered in the moonlight. Mycroft held her hand and she smiled softly as he spoke up.

"Moriarty...Sherrinford...they were just the beginning of what will happen. You understand that."

Claire paused but nodded. "Yes. With your area of work, the dangers won't stop coming."

Mycroft swallowed. "That's why...I've decided to resign."

Claire's eyes widened. "What?"

"I want to settle down. It'll only be brief, of course. I've spoken with Sherlock, but, I think it's for the best-"

Her hands gripped his collar and pulled him into a deep kiss. His eyes opened wide in surprise, but slowly closed them and he pulled her closer. He held the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. In the shadows, Sherlock watched them from afar and smiled. He shook his head and folded his arms as they continued. He had never seen Mycroft so at peace and happy. It made him smile more. With a nod, he gave a bow of his head once more.

"Take care...brother mine."


	30. Chapter 30

_**Epilogue: A Night of New Demons**_

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It was a cloudy night in London. A man sat in a bar and eyed his drink, not having touched it. He was silent until a young man, wearing a leather jacket, joined him. The bar would be closing soon, so they had little time to speak.

"I think you're putting too much concern over one man," the man in the leather jacket said.

"Sherlock Holmes is not a man to be ignored. He made me lose connection with my former employee."

"Right. Moriarty. He had it coming. He was already employed by someone else and it was too much work for him."

"Ironically, it was the eldest Holmes brother who had him under his employment."

"Very ironic, indeed. Shame. Moriarty was a hard worker and very clever."

A pause. "Yes. But, he was enjoying the game too much. The only way to handle this is to deal with the problem firsthand."

The young man in the leather jacket raised his eyebrows. "You mean, you wish to deal with John Watson?"

"No, pressure points are a waste of time. They only create a never ending negotiation. Besides, John Watson isn't a threat to me, though he may become useful in the future. Best to keep an eye on him."

The young man nodded. "Yes. So, you wish to attack Sherlock Holmes?"

"There's no other alternative. But, to answer your question, yes."

They sat and conversed through the night in the bar. They drank and plotted without anyone knowing what was going on beneath their noses. At 221B, Sherlock and John sat drinking tea together before they went to bed. John stirred his tea and looked up at Sherlock.

Sherlock blinked. "What?"

"Hmm? Nothing," John lied.

"Come on, John. You haven't spoken in the past five minutes. Something's troubling you."

John sighed and put his cup down onto the table with a small tink. "It's just that...I was wondering if you were alright."

"John," Sherlock said, slightly annoyed.

"No, I'm serious. You've...you didn't tell me you killed Moriarty...why?"

Sherlock looked at John confused as he sipped his tea. "Why should I have to tell you that I killed him?"

"It's not that...I mean, it is. But, we've never really talked about it. I think we should."

Sherlock shook his head and chuckled a bit as John stared at him. "I don't need to discuss it, John. It's not haunting me as it seems to be haunting _you_." 

Biting his lips, John looked away and stared down at his tea. They were silent for a moment until John spoke up again. "I was just concerned. Most people would probably be-"

"I'm not most people, John. You seem to forget that."

John shut his eyes in annoyance. "Yes, well, be that as it may...if you ever want to talk about it...you know that I'm here for you."

Sherlock looked at him and scanned his face. He was being serious. John sighed and shook his head as he stood up. The curly haired detective watched him stand and let out a deep sigh. "I've always know that, John."

John paused and smiled a bit as he had his back turned to Sherlock. He left the room content and whole.

THE END

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 _ **A/N: And so ends this wild adventure. This story has received about 7,000 views and whether that's considered "successful or not" is up to you, but I feel proud to end the story here. For those who might be interested, I am planning a sequel to this story, so keep your eyes open for that. It'll involve more of Sherlock and Mycroft's relationship as new dangers arise, but don't worry. Claire and John will be there too as well as Lestrade:)**_

 _ **Just as an FYI to those are wondering, I made the wedding short and to the point because I didn't want it to be too similar to John and Mary's in Season 3, so I hope that didn't bother too many people.**_

 _ **Thanks so much for reading this and I hope you have a safe weekend and happy holidays!**_


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